My Personal Heroine, May Sarton


ritual of selfblessing

May Sarton is a woman who lived in New England. She was a writer, journalist, and poet. She has written many great novels which I have always found to be a delight to read.Her poetry sings from the heart. Her journals take you to a place when you need to think about new perceptions and to think about talking to other women. You can get her books at your local library.

Now I Become Myself  

May Sarton

Now I become myself. It’s taken

Time, many years and places;

I have dissolved and shaken,

Worn other people’s faces,

Run madly, as if Time were there,

Terrible old, crying a warning,

“Hurry, you will be dead before—-“

( What? Before you  reach the morning?

Or the end of the poem is clear?

Or love safe in the walled city?)

Now to stand still, to be here,

Feel my own weight and destiny!

The black shadow on the paper

Is my hand, the shadow of a word

As thought shapes the shaper

Falls heavy on the page, is heard

All fuses now, falls into place

From wish to action, ,word to silence,

My work, my love, my love, my time, my face

Gathered into one intense

Gesture of growing like a plant.

As slowly as the ripening fruit

Fertile, detached, and always spent,

Falls but does not exhaust the root,

So all the poem is, can give,

Grows in me to become the song,

Made so and rooted so by love

New there is time and Time is young.

O, in this single hour I live

All of myself and do not move.

I, the pursued, who madly ran,

Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun.”

to be beautifulto beyourself