It was so lovely, the home
I built in the arroyo,
such smooth golden plaster
I worked with my hands,
such luster in the wood.
I had been told, of course,
about the chance of flood. Perhaps
some part of me felt relief
when the current finally came—
first a hum, then a roar,
then the splintering din,
and then only vehement rush.
What does the soul want, really,
but to join with the wild flood?
Regret can only tread for so long;
this now is what life wants.
An uprooted tree, a hand carved beam—
both serve as well for a float.
Now whatever the water says,
that is where I go.
Seems like a perspective from a news story, a disaster turned inward. I like how the title informs the POV in the poem, but I especially like the prominence water plays. Worry waits, water wins!
“Ask Me” by William Stafford
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.
I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.
Eduardo, this is one of my very favorite poems of all time. Ask me what difference exactly. Give me the strength to be that river. Xox r
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Monday, February 29, 2016 at 9:56 AM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “At First It Seemed Like a Problem”
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