Lament for a Wavering Viewpoint

By Phylis McGinley

I want to be a Tory and with the Tories stand,
Elect and bound for glory with a proud, congenial band.
Or in the Leftish hallways I gladly would abide,
But from my youth I always could see the Other Side.
How comfortable to rest with the safe and armored folk
Congenitally blessed with opinions stout as oak.
Assured that every question one single answer hath,
They keep a good digestion and whistle in their bath.
But all my views are plastic, with neither form nor pride.
They stretched like new elastic around the Other Side;
And I grow lean and haggard with searching out the taint
Of hero in the (Devil) or Villain in the saint.
Ah, snug lie those that slumber beneath Conviction's roof.
Their floors are sturdy lumber, their windows weatherproof.
But I sleep cold forever and cold sleep all my kind,
Born nakedly to shiver in the draft of an open mind.

Inside the Riddle

By Naomi Shihab Nye

It's blue in here.

There are grocery stores, with soap.

I'm looking for someone
who might have an answer
big enough not to be insulting,
but everyone looks preoccupied,
blankly solemn.

I'm staring at an umbrella,
a yard shrine on El Paso Street.
What's it keeping away?
Vagrant dogs, dogs with shark's teeth,
men with anchors,
blurred beneath their sleeves

This little house of Mary,
this concrete grotto studded
with seashells or chipped glass,
I would like to be a Catholic
with such a straight faith.

Or a Muslim, fasting and praying -
I would kneel on stones
beside the men of Cairo

To believe God has reasons
seems too petty for God.

Readings of August 6, 2006