Friday, September 24, 2010

It ain't what you do, it's what it does to you.

I found it! A few lines from this poem I studied for my GCSEs have been running through my head for a while and I finally found the whole thing.

It ain't what you do it's what it does to you

I have not bummed across America
with only a dollar to spare, one pair

of busted Levi's and a bowie knife.
I have lived with thieves in Manchester.

I have not padded through theTaj Mahal,
barefoot, listening to the space between
each footfall picking up and putting down
its print against the marble floor. But I

skimmed flat stones across Black Moss on a day
so still I could hear each set of ripples
as they crossed. I felt each stones' inertia
spend itself against the water; then sink.
I have not toyed with a parachute cord
while perched on the lip of a light aircraft;
but I have held the wobbly head of a boy
at the day centre, and stroked his fat hands.

And I guess that the tightness in the throat
and the tiny cascading sensation
somewhere inside us are both part of that
sense of something else. That feeling, I mean.

Simon Armitage

I like it a lot because often in life we don't always get to do the great big things, yet we can experience the everyday in a way so magnified that we do begin to have that sense of wonder and of the divine. It's sort of a long the lines of what Mother Theresa preached:

"We can't all do great things, but we can do small things with great love."

I like that.

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