Now I become myself. It's taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people's faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
"Hurry, you will be dead before—"
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gathered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poem is, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!
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Wonderful
To me it speaks of getting wisdom, our mistakes, how
our thinking changes as we get older gather knowledge
How often do we say 'if only I knew then, what I know now' -
This piece invokes a soft sort of wonder, in this reader at least. The imagery, such as the shadow on the page, has a wistful sense. Feeling the weight and density of her own body made me much more aware of the gravity encompassing mine.
A well written piece, written as if it belongs to all and no time.
Sincerely,
~ Janet ~ -
So purely Sarton -- a mix of strength, energy and doubt, all thriving within a subdued energy that resolves and resounds.
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*Awesome*
I wish i could write something that amazing. the way it flows is great -
GREAT
i love this...the words and message behined them is great -
Seems you have found your own essence in your journey to you.
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