Adrienne Rich, poet, writes of her polarities
in a poem called Integrity.
“Anger and tenderness: my selves.
And now I can believe they breathe in me
as angels, not polarities.”
My polarities will not talk,
they’re like a stubborn Congress
at odds, arms folded, looking outward
with staunch backs.
My polarities are anima and animus,
male and female, Independent Spirit
The Independent One fights for freedom,
suspicious of men, untrusting, protective.
Her adversary, the Romantic,
bows before her lover in
sweetness and benediction: his goddess,
Oh, these two give me fits with their
contrariness, the one sabotages the other
in spite and desperation.
And I, the tired referee, who just wants
peace and a man whom I can love without
all their drama.
Adrienne is lucky. Where are my angels?