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Mirroring



Mirroring

 

I am giving up beauty.

Not the silver thickets and the sandpipers

Not the grass beneath the lake,

not the way my child’s hair eddies 

when I rinse it in the bath--

but the lighted rooms when

tall and cool

I am effortlessly suspended in the

wordless hush of sight and gifted desire,

drifting quiet like a trout at the water’s edge,

pulled by a gentle current.

 

I will learn eyes that look outwards.

Since I no longer pull and sing like the current,

 

when a river butterfly 

touches silent surfaces with delicate feet,

I will bend to meet it myself.

When an egret stands in the

marsh shallows with folded wings,

I will call it lovely.

This is beautiful,

this is not.

This is an endless  garden of reeds,

this is the forest after a rain.

 

 

Category: My articles | Added by: Kristin (09.20.2011)
Views: 4370 | Comments: 1 | Rating: 5.0/1
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