There Is Lightning In Me Still

A gal I know shared this poem last week, and I can't get enough of it. It's by Charles Rafferty.

When I was in school, I used to crave those assignments where you had to memorize a poem or a passage or a Shakespearean soliloquy. The memorization forced me to inhabit the work, to become intertwined with the words, to dive in and climb, dripping, out of the author's pool of language. It was always a meaningful experience for me.

I want to memorize this poem.

AGAINST HESITATION

If you stare at it long enough
the mountain becomes unclimbable.
Tally it up. How much time have you spent
waiting for the soup to cool?
Icicles hang from January gutters
only as long as they can. Fingers pause
above piano keys for the chord
that will not form. Slam them down
I say. Make music of what you can.
Some people stop at the wrong corner
and waste a dozen years hoping
for directions. I can’t be them.
Tell every girl I’ve ever known
I’m coming to break her door down,
that my teeth will clench
the simple flower I only knew
not to give . . . Ah, how long did I stand
beneath the eaves believing the storm
would stop? It never did.
And there is lightning in me still.