Margaret Atwood (18 November 1939 / Ottawa, Ontario)

is there by any chance another link to a website with this poem posted, because i can't find any and i need about two other sources confirming this poem is by margaret atwood.

This is only half the poem. People should be more observant and careful before posting on the internet, but I guess in this age of immediacy, that may be too much to ask. The rest of the poem is this (and the first part of the poem should be labeled with 'i.') :

ii

I am not a saint or a cripple,
I am not a wound; now I will see
whether I am a coward.


I dispose of my good manners,
you don't have to kiss my wrists.

This is a journey, not a war,
there is no outcome,
I renounce predictions


and aspirins, I resign the future
as I would resign an expired passport:
picture and signature gone
along with holidays and safe returns.


We're stuck here
on this side of the border
in this country of thumbed streets and stale buildings


where there is nothing spectacular
to see and the weather is ordinary

where love occurs in its pure form only
on the cheaper of the souvenirs


where we must walk slowly,
where we may not get anywhere


or anything, where we keep going,
fighting our ways, our way
not out but through.

Members should be ashamed to not have anything written here.