THE ILLITERATE
by William Meredith
Touching your goodness, I am like a man
Who turns a letter over in his hand
And you might think this was because the hand
Was unfamiliar but, truth is, the man
Has never had a letter from anyone;
And now he is both afraid of what it means
And ashamed because he has no other means
To find out what it says than to ask someone.
His uncle could have left the farm to him,
Or his parents died before he sent them word,
Or the dark girl changed and want him for beloved.
Afraid and letter-proud, he keeps it with him.
What would you call his feeling for the words
That keep him rich and orphaned and beloved?
From The Penguin Book of the Sonnet, edited by Phillis Levin
4 comments:
Wow, that's a really good one. I can't imagine being illiterate. When we win the lottery and I have all the free time in the world, I'd like to work with an adult literacy organization.
I have always loved letters. You never know what is inside. Although the computer is a wonderful thing, it has taken away the art of letter writing!
I love Meredith, and this poem gave me goosebumps. Thanks so much for this.
I think this poem has a twist...and rather than being direct with the title, it is more indirect as it has nothing to do with being illiterate. The author in a situation that can be compared to a man who is illiterate. The situation being a situation that stems uncertainty.
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