"A Song on Grief" a poem by Anne Finch

A poem from the public domain

Intro

I went to the library yesterday and brought home about a dozen books. Poetry of Witness is where I found today’s public domain poem.

Grief always seems close for a trans woman. I grieve for the lost ideals of a country that despises people like me. I grieve for trans siblings who have died or have been assaulted (those I know and those I don’t). I grieve for friends who struggle to get gender-affirming care in their red states because those governments decided that harming trans people is their top priority. I was able to move to a blue state last year, but even here our rights are still tenuous.

I grieve most of all for friends I’ve lost to propaganda—those who believe politicians and talking heads and preachers who incessantly bear false witness against trans people. I don’t know how to make them see me, to make them see that I am also filled with joy at finally being my whole self. And that I’m not a monster or demon or threat to children or “a man in a dress.” The lies persist. So do I, but I grieve.

The poem text is below, followed by my video reading. If you’d like to support my page, donate at ko-fi.com/thepoetmiranda, subscribe below, and/or check out my archive with other public domain poems I’ve read, my original poetry, and my memoir.

💜Miranda📚

A Song on Grief

Oh grief, why hast thou so much power?
Why do the ruling fates decree
No state should e’er without thee be?
Why dost thou joys and hopes devour,
And clothe even Love himself in thy dark livery?

Thou and cold Fear, thy close ally,
Do not alone on life attend,
But following mortals to their end
Do rack the wretches whilst they die
And to eternal shades too often with them fly.

To thee, great monarch, I submit,
Thy sables and they cypress bring;
I own thy Power, I own thee King;
They title in my heart is writ
And till that breaks, I ne’er shall freedom get.

Forced smiles thy rigor will allow,
And whilst thy seat is in the soul
And there all mirth thou dost control,
Thou canst admit to outward show,
The smooth appearance and dissembled brow.

My Reading