Carol Ann Duffy's Poem, RINGS

I'll be waking up at 5 am tomorrow morning to watch the royal wedding. In part it is to honor my eleven year old self who woke at 5 am in 1981 to watch Charles and Diana get married. There seems an important symmetry in the events thirty years apart. At eleven, I assembled a scrapbook of the wedding, knowing at some level even then that scrapbook would be my only wedding book. The early rising will be voluntary, unlike when Diana died and I was woken equally early by our housemate screeching, oh, no! She died! Some may remember it was a tragic summer, Gianni Versace, then Diana. It seemed like a summer of tragedy in our young queer lives. So I'll watch in honor of my younger self, and my friend Johnie who woke me screaming now over a decade ago.

I'm enjoying the discussions about Carol Ann Duffy's decision to write a poem for the occasion. The occasion poem is a difficult matter, and I think Duffy rose to the occasion. The poem, along with many others is at The Guardian and I've reproduced it below.

What do you think? A good poem? An appropriate response to the many political and ethical considerations of the occasion? Let me know. Meanwhile, I am looking forward to rising before the sun tomorrow.


Carol Ann Duffy
Rings

for both to say

I might have raised your hand to the sky
to give you the ring surrounding the moon
or looked to twin the rings of your eyes
with mine
or added a ring to the rings of a tree
by forming a handheld circle with you, thee,
or walked with you
where a ring of church-bells,
looped the fields,
or kissed a lipstick ring on your cheek,
a pressed flower,
or met with you
in the ring of an hour,
and another hour . . .
I might
have opened your palm to the weather, turned, turned,
till your fingers were ringed in rain
or held you close,
they were playing our song,
in the ring of a slow dance
or carved our names
in the rough ring of a heart
or heard the ring of an owl's hoot
as we headed home in the dark
or the ring, first thing,
of chorussing birds
waking the house
or given the ring of a boat, rowing the lake,
or the ring of swans, monogamous, two,
or the watery rings made by the fish
as they leaped and splashed
or the ring of the sun's reflection there . . .
I might have tied
a blade of grass,
a green ring for your finger,
or told you the ring of a sonnet by heart
or brought you a lichen ring,
found on a warm wall,
or given a ring of ice in winter
or in the snow
sung with you the five gold rings of a carol
or stolen a ring of your hair
or whispered the word in your ear
that brought us here,
where nothing and no one is wrong,
and therefore I give you this ring.