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We Endure
October 20, 2005
At the edge
of thaw
and freeze,
at the edge
of ice
and water,
at the edge
of matter
and liquid
and gas,
at the edge
of spring
or fall,
we endure,
indeed we do,
on promise.
By Tom Montag, of The Middlewesterner.
Categories: Change and Continuity
Tom Montag
qarrtsiluni 
that is effing amazing. I love how it’s arranged, so that the eye slips over it, like it’s flowing like the melting ice or the changing form of matter and time. Very deep, and it gives me something to look forward to and back on: the promise!
Tom, what a wonderful poem, full of truth. Last night the temperature here hovered right at freezing; it is that tipping point between so much, for those of us who live in the north. And you are right: “promise” is what gets us through — either the actual physical changes of the seasons, or whatever that metaphor may represent in our lives.
I love the ending line, “on promise.” It’s both strong and precarious at the same time. Whose promise, exactly? How trustworthy? Just like adding “indeed we do” after “we endure” as if to reassure ourselves, we who are “at the edge.” Beautiful.
What a beautiful way to capture the way we live. The world entangled up with us.
How minimalist, yet it says so much! “of ice and water….and liquid and gas ” brings to my mind your Icelandic journey, Tom. Beautiful like Scandinavian crystal.
I love the narrowness of your lines which compress and contain so much. And then the bursting at the end: “on promise”.
Like the iceberg that conceals and holds vaster fields of ice that contain oceans of water … this minimalist poem sounds the those depths into relief.
Living at the edge — on the border, where (as I said once and you liked the way I put it) “every brink is the core,” and where the promise animates (or embodies) the heart.
Wonderful poem, Tom!
You’ve drawn this out long and thin, a shimmering edge that rests in balance on one word that is all we have.
Thanks.
Hey, all of you–before I leave in the morning for a week in Minnesota, I have to say thanks for your comments. Yup, this poem is about as Creeley-esque as I can get – tall and skinny, with everything landing on the last word. Come to think of it, I might have learned some of that from Wm Carlos Williams, too.
It has been a tough couple of months here, so your huzza-huzza is appreciated. I’ll be home in a week, and when I get back I hope you still feel the same about it!
Next day: it’s still just as good.
Tom, your poetry has such ballast. In a Midwestern kind of way.
Beautiful, Tom.
I love this.
great little stick of a poem; conveys my feelings about faith.