Thursday, August 28, 2014

Jane Hirshfield: To Hear the Falling World


To Hear the Falling World

Only if I move my arm a certain way,
it comes back.
Or the way the light bends in the trees
this time of year,
so a scrap of sorrow, like a bird, lights on the heart.
I carry this in my body, seed
in an unswept corner, husk-encowled and seeming safe.
But they guard me, these small pains,
from growing sure
of myself and perhaps forgetting.

 
- Jane Hirshfield, Of Gravity & Angels
 

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