Sunday, May 4, 2008

Don't Know What to do With Myself

Classes are over for the summer. For the first time in a long time, I was able to live a normal Sunday: Orthros and Divine Liturgy, home for a little nap, refilling coffee cup and random reading. (I have a lot of catching up to do.) Time with the family, no papers to write or assignments to complete. It should be a crime to feel such contentment.

I was delighted to read this poem by Jane Hirshfield (her poetry moves me, and this one is exceptionally good)--

The Decision
by Jane Hirshfield

There is a moment before a shape
hardens, a color sets.
Before the fixative or heat of   kiln.
The letter might still be taken
from the mailbox.
The hand held back by the elbow,
the word kept between the larynx pulse
and the amplifying drum-skin of the room’s air.
The thorax of an ant is not as narrow.
The green coat on old copper weighs more.
Yet something slips through it —
looks around,
sets out in the new direction, for other lands.
Not into exile, not into hope. Simply changed.
As a sandy track-rut changes when called a Silk Road:
it cannot be after turned back from.

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