Listening to the banter between friends. Friends that happen to be the very best of the US; friends & a conversation between Robert Bly & Donald Hall. A privilege and a blessing. They both graciously read some poems and I listened. The words and sentiments easy and true. When will my writing mirror the energy of these creative people?
In line and waiting on them, the briefest of moments to have a conversation. Hall generous with his comments; well done.
Bly - a gaze penetrating and a knowing something/something.
He asked: "What are you writing?"
I thought, 'Did I tell him that I'm writing?'
Bly, "I wish you well on your writing."
Thanking him I kept my 'good eye' on him as I moved away, making room for the next fan of his poetry, his life's work. Moving away, I kept a good eye on him and to my surprise, he kept a good eye on me.
Checking the signature in the book of poems, he had personalized it with my name. "Did I tell him my name?" I knew that I had not. I didn't provide him with any personal information. None at all. I know that, having been in line for Donald Hall - first & told that only autographs of the book were being given, today.
I am a very good student, to a fault. Literal. Too literal.
Bly took my name off of my name tag on a string around my neck. Actually, looked at a name tag to sign my name and his on the book of poetry.
Yes, today I question the 'Why?'
Yes, today I answer with the biggest of reasons. I am a writer.
I am meant to write.
Another writer recognized me today.
Another writer affirmed my mission, my life's work.
The writer giving the affirmation is a Poet Laureate & his name is Robert Bly.
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