Into My Life
If words could hold this world
They would bend themselves to one
Transparency.
Henry Rago, “The Knowledge of Light”
So often all these years I have come to say
The same words: woods and pines, fields
And pastures, streams and stones, hawks
And horses, arrival and departure. as though
Recitation and repetition were the only way
To poems, past and presence. Perhaps now
They are no more than the usual affliction
Of old age, a way of counting and recounting
The years and how it was that all the passages
Through them have led to here, to the few
Places that have not changed but changed
A long life, coming nearer the end of it now,
Knowing now it has never been the words
That mattered but the gestures and revelations
Of each place as it was and yet is, beginning
Now in the sudden silence of rain stopping,
Light and shadow on the still spring stream,
Following hoof prints along the muddy bank,
Ending somewhere to be arrived at again
And again; the transcending leap of faith
Of a deer crossing the clearing and into my life.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2015-09-06 at 16:43
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