You have to remember this isn’t your land.
It belongs to no one
—Philip Levine, “Our Valley”
I am not your land. Not your woman, either.
Not your girl, not your scapegoat, not your Juliet.
I can’t be mapped, can’t be trapped, can’t be pinned.
Can’t be bought, can’t be caught, can’t be won.
But here I am, open handed, and here
you are. I don’t know this valley,
though I’ve walked it many times.
Let’s learn it again together. This time on our knees.
One of Levine’s understated best. Thank you.
“I don’t know this valley,… Let’s learn it again…” I’m ambivalent whether these lines are contradictory or paradoxical. (Or whether they’re something other.) And, since we start with your stating, “I am not your land,” are we talking about a literal or metaphoric valley, here, anyway? If it is you that you’re saying you don’t know and wish to relearn again, then boy howdy does this poem’s interpretations/meaning/layers open way up.
“This time on our knees.” Slowly and intimately on our knees? Or penitently so? So whatta image to close on.
This one is a manifesto of sorts, which makes it attractive from the start, though I do like that you haven’t bogged it down in politics. Cadence here is a plus. I’ll have to look back at the Levine poem. I do admire his work, and yours too in this one.