Posted by: stelladuffy | March 28, 2012

Adrienne Rich

Adrienne Rich was one of a handful of writers, mostly women, many gay, who made a massive difference to me in my late teens/early twenties. Because they were there and strong and loud and open and honest and because their words were beautiful and their politics were true and they weren’t afraid to shout their politics in beautiful words – they weren’t afraid of poetry.
I’m grateful there were voices like hers when I needed to hear them, and I’m grateful that – unlike so many of my woman writer heroes – Rich lived a long life.

Thanks to Jenny Whyte and Caren Wilton for reminding me of this :

by Adrienne Rich

You’re wondering if I’m lonely:
OK then, yes, I’m lonely
as a plane rides lonely and level
on its radio beam, aiming
across the Rockies
for the blue-strung aisles
of an airfield on the ocean.

You want to ask, am I lonely?
Well, of course, lonely
as a woman driving across country
day after day, leaving behind
mile after mile
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely

If I’m lonely
it must be the loneliness
of waking first, of breathing
dawns’ first cold breath on the city
of being the one awake
in a house wrapped in sleep

If I’m lonely
it’s with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it’s neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning


  1. What you say about Adrienne is very much the same how we lot feel towards people like you. Glad you said it. R.I.P Adrienne…

  2. That is so beautiful, and so touching. It goes straight to my heart. I didn’t know her, and now I’m glad I do, and shall go reading.

    thank you …

  3. wow NSFD, that’s very generous. thank you.

    and Andie, you have great treats in store!

  4. I met her once. She signed a small, white, china pistol that I had made.
    She looked at me and we talked for a little. I asked her for a few words and took her pen and wrote along the barrel of the toy Berretta.

    “My life had stood – a loaded Gun…” Emily Dickinson.
    You can read more about it here:

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