A friend of mine, who describes herself as an "old Episcopalian reprobate", told me today of a poem by Marge Piercy—To Be of Use. Below is the last stanza from that poem. My friend is hardly old and she prays and loves deeply. I want to comment soon on this piece. Please, offer your comments too, I hope to foster a dialogue about beauty and hope through this blog.
"The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real."
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