Vox Populi
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Arlene Weiner: For My Husband Who is Depressed at the State of the World
The world was always broken. Always mutilated.
Our friend who loves birds went to a hawk banding.
To call in the hawks the banders let fly pigeons on strings.
The world is always beautiful. The crabapple tree
we thought was dead blossomed richly this year–
for two weeks our bedroom was a bower.
We have lived through years when our country
was at war, through years when the despicable
and treacherous brought down teachers, writers, artists.
Lilacs perfume the city air. Smoke from wildfires
turns sunsets glorious. Talons tear the breast of the dove.
The world changes. The world doesn’t change.
.
~~~~
Copyright 2025 Arlene Weiner
Arlene Weiner’s books include More (Ragged Sky, 2022). She lives in Pittsburgh.
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I love this poem. The last line–so true.
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I love this poem as well. A wise and beautiful utterance.
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What a beautiful balancing act this poem performs, the very one we need to perform each day and especially now. It reminds me of Zagajewski’s poem “Try to Praise the Mutilated World.” And I find this poem as beautiful and as needful as that poem. Thank you for another lyrical stepping stone to make my way through the day.
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Yes, Zagajewski’s poem is a good comparison to this one, Mike. Thank you.
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And one of the many things I love about Vox Populi is the responses. A community of appreciation, rising on beautiful words of poets, while aware, not hiding, yet abhorring the evil darkness. This poem brings forth the perspective we need, I need, to get up and continue. Thank you. As so often happens, this is the poem I needed to get out of bed today.
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I love the responses of poets and readers to the posted poems here.
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Such painful, lit and deeply felt resilience in this poem…
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Yes, the world is made of death and beauty.
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Yrs, the world is beautiful, the world is on fire. Lovely poem. I especially loved the image of the crabapple tree and the bedroom as bower.
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The world was always broken. The world is always beautiful. What an elegant poem that captures the paradox of these two realities. I am grateful to have read this.
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The poem is a gift to help us deal with our grief.
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This is what I tell myself every day. Thank you for the beautiful image of your tree.
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Arlene:
I feel as delicate as a flower, like your husband in need of consolation. The road they want to build to divine my life in half. The weevil killing our sable palms all over the ranch. Gaza. Gaza. Gaza. But your poem does the trick, there are such things here. There is some how enough rain that we have the best calves this year we’ve had in five, there is inexplicable coolness in the air, and this sylvan light.
And your beautiful poetry.
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What a lyrical response, Sean. Thank you.
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I did mean “divide,” the road will divide our lives and set terms— unprecedented, a kind of ruin. Arlene gives me something today in her poem, wakens something of my own. I am grateful.
Michael: You’re in “Poetry Town” today with a very fine poem! So pleased to see and say this.
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Thanks, Sean. I’m grateful to George Bilgere for including my poem in Poetry Town today. BTW, “divine my life in half” is pretty profound. Sometimes typos create interesting revisions, don’t they?
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indeed they do. I almost didn’t say anything.
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What a beautiful & sad response, Sean. I’m so sorry that your palms are dying — relieved you have beautiful new calves. That road, that road — how terrible.
Life. Here, too, there has been a coolness in the air.
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We have an astounding number of poets in Pittsburgh, and Arlene is one of the best. I love her wisdom and careful craft.
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