Today the shadows
teach me to love
what is dim,
the sweet respite
of obscurity
when the sun
is too much
and a tree
yields its shape
so that I might slip
my clumsy heat
out of the bounds
of the vertical world
and find instead
a cool dark pool
on the ground,
as if I’m a boat
that has discovered
at last
a slim calm eddy
in which I might rest.
This is perhaps
the way we start
to meet our deaths—
sliding into the relief
of these dark, quiet
channels.
I could quote every line of this seductive poem, “slip my clumsy heat out of the bounds of the vertical world and find instead a cool dark pool..” What permission to practice our death, all the deaths. Thank you Rosemerry for this “slim calm eddy in which I might rest.”
Oh friend, thank you … it’s something I think of so often, these chances to be very alive and be curious about our deaths, too …