I want to be an ugly man
So I can hold a humble pride.
Won't fashion make or wardrobe plan,
Won't need a ring, won't have a bride.
And this is how I want to feel --
Coarse like a hog, odd as a mule,
An ox who always drags the wheels,
Who wears a bow but bears no jewels.
And when at last I'm ugly, can
You be so kind to tell me, too?
And stare at me, if you can stand;
Don't let good manners hinder you.
Look long enough, look at this dun,
Until there's nothing else to see.
Look all your life, you won't be done,
And that is what will most please me.
May 29, 2003
About Me
- Anthony Zuba
- New York, New York, United States
- I was born Sept. 27, 1977, in Flushing, NY, and raised in North Babylon, NY. From the suburbs of Long Island I moved to the hills and gorges of Ithaca, NY, studying at Cornell University. There, my spirit was awakened, and everything changed. The Spirit that stirred my spirit brought me to Baltimore and then to Boston. I studied at Boston University School of Theology and learned better how I wanted to live. Today, I am a Capuchin Franciscan friar in perpetual vows. Yesterday, I was a community organizer in Boston, an editor in New York, and a teacher in Baltimore. Tomorrow, God only knows. Many things interest me, though nothing in particular. I have an abiding interest in living simply and living well. Life that is authentic interests me.
12 comments:
This is a rather difficult poem. To want to be an ugly man? Is this, rather, for want of an excuse to feel like an ugly man? This poem does not fit with the others. Meaning find one must.
It is different from what's being written recently. Mind you, it was composed six years ago under different life circumstances. At that time I was living in Baltimore, which was billed by Travel and Leisure magazine as home to the ugliest people in America. And Baltimoreans were proud of that misfit "distinction." So I think for starters I was working from that.
Then I began to think about the beauty of brokenness. Baltimore in 2003 was very much broken by drug-related violence, illiteracy, and poverty. It was hard for me to live and work and pray in Baltimore. There was nothing conventionally beautiful about the city when compared to a place like Boston. So I learned to find beauty in the beastliness of the city. And that's probably where my farm animal metaphors came from.
I like this poem's simplicity. I like its directness. I like its easy-to-grasp metaphors. It has aural puns ("dun" and "done") and double entendre (the ox who bears no jewels). And the twist ending -- that the reader will keep looking and find something (attractive? irresistible?) in the ugly man -- is very satisfying.
It's a very good poem. I wish could write like that today.
Let me add that I can relate to the poem today. As a human being with human needs, I, too, want to be noticed. I want to be seen. I want attention. But I know I can't and won't be the center of attention, or be conventionally beautiful and lovable. So like the ugly man I will aspire to be attractive in my misfit peculiarity. May that peculiarity be as good and true and beautiful and lovable as it can be.
So, you could say this poem not fitting in with the others is precisely the point.
One more thing, Anonymous ... you wouldn't happen to be Yoda, would you? ("Meaning find one must.")
You have the ability to be whatever you want. The limits you set are of your own making. You have built yourself a prison, and then scream to be let out. The front door is ajar, but you keep pacing the upper floors. Be at peace, go out and be free.
I'll need to sleep on your last thoughts. They surprise me.
Do you prefer surprise or predictability?
This sounds like a Myers-Briggs question. Are these my only two options? I like both at the right moments. I rejoice in predictable things with the capacity to surprise, such as sunrises, sunsets, full moons, rituals of worship, etc. I also celebrate predictably surprising things such as births, engagements, and marriages.
Nothing is either pure surprise or purely predictable. For instance, assuming we have met before, if one day I discovered your identity, I should say I was surprised but that in hindsight I could have predicted who you were.
World view your stone set in.
Statements like that will end the conversation very quickly. Perhaps you do not know me at all.
It looks like I did not know you very well. I like surprise, new ideas, breaks from routine. I fear mixing our world views would lead to conflict. Is it better to walk alone in peace, or to walk with others in disharmony? Dilemma great this is for all.
Neither surprise nor routine are an absolute good. It's what we do in moments of surprise or routine and how we do it that matters.
I like harmony. But I also need a little dissonance in my art, my music, and my life.
I will walk with you and all my brothers and sisters into the way of peace, and I pray daily to be guided into that way. But I also recognize that where I am is not yet the peace for which I pray. So there is disharmony. If you can bear the disharmony that is while hoping for the peace that will be, then you can walk with me.
Don't fear conflict, Anonymous. Instead, keep reading the blog, and you may yet be surprised.
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