You love most of all those who need you
—Rainer Maria Rilke, “You See, I Want a Lot,” trans. Robert Bly
as they need a crowbar or a hoe.
Rilke, you were right.
I want so much to be useful.
Today I stared at the brown cardboard box
on the counter and marveled
at how a box knows exactly what it’s here to do—
it holds what needs to be held,
it keeps things together,
it helps things move where they need to go.
It is a fort for a child or a bed for a cat
or a makeshift sled in winter.
I hazard to say the box never worries
if it is enough. It simply folds up
when its task is done and waits to be of use again.
Or not. Oh, this longing to do more, to be more,
to serve more, because in every direction,
the need is so great. Oh, this fear
that no matter how much I do, it is never enough.
A man is not a crowbar, a hoe.
A woman is not a box,
but oh for a moment to be able
to keep things together.
I know it’s not how it works,
but oh, for a moment,
to hold all that needs to be held.
