Your silence today is a pond where drowned things live
I went to see raised dripping and brought into the sun.
It's not my own face I see there, but other faces,
even your face at another age.
Whatever's lost there is needed by both of us -
a watch of old gold, a water-blurred fever chart, a key...
Even the silt and pebbles of the bottom
deserve their glint of recognition.
I fear this silence, this inarticulate life.
I'm waiting for a wind that will gently open this sheeted water for once
and show me what I can do for you,
who have often made the unnameable nameable for others,
even for me.
--Adrienne Rich 21 Love Poems, 1978 :::There was a tiny pool of water from last night's rain on the road near our home. Above image shows trees reflected on it. Hope you like the pic.
It's not my own face I see there, but other faces,
even your face at another age.
Whatever's lost there is needed by both of us -
a watch of old gold, a water-blurred fever chart, a key...
Even the silt and pebbles of the bottom
deserve their glint of recognition.
I fear this silence, this inarticulate life.
I'm waiting for a wind that will gently open this sheeted water for once
and show me what I can do for you,
who have often made the unnameable nameable for others,
even for me.
--Adrienne Rich 21 Love Poems, 1978 :::There was a tiny pool of water from last night's rain on the road near our home. Above image shows trees reflected on it. Hope you like the pic.
RSS Feed
