Ah, yes. The FreeVerse link is no longer, but I still find myself musing over poetry on Wednesdays. I particularly loved Maya Stein's use of words in writing about the rescue of the Chilean miners, and how she tied the concept of rescue into our own economic bleakness. See if you agree!
Did you feel it too? How each miner, surfacing from that nether-deep,
carried you with him? How something inside of you, trapped too long
in the cramped dark, rose from that slow capsule and into the wide air? We weep
for the reunion, a man and his young son, his eager, frightened wife who's gone
these months walking the high wire of her grief. But there is another rescue
we dare to hope for, and it is not in another country where we don't speak
the language. No, it's closer to home, that self we've had a hand in burying, too.
We're praying for a breathing tube, a tunnel to siphon us from the bleak
passageway we keep retreading. And maybe a crowd’s not huddled near,
waiting for this liberation. But no matter. The time has come. Our moment's here.
I hope she's right.