Sunday, December 28, 2014

Still Morning By W. S. Merwin

A certain slant of Winter light...

Still Morning
By W. S. Merwin

It appears now that there is only one
age and it knows
nothing of age as the flying birds know
nothing of the air they are flying through
or of the day that bears them up
through themselves
and I am a child before there are words
arms are holding me up in a shadow
voices murmur in a shadow
as I watch one patch of sunlight moving
across the green carpet
in a building
gone long ago and all the voices
silent and each word they said in that time
silent now
while I go on seeing that patch of sunlight


"There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons---
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes---

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us---
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are---

None may teach it - Any -
'Tis the Seal Despair---
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air---

When it comes, the Landscape listens---
Shadows - hold their breath---
When it goes, 'tis like the distance
On the look of Death---

#258 - Emily Dickinson


erin said...

have you read hayden carruth's "north winter", marion? especially the "afterword," which is so very very difficult, but -

but -

it is in this but i find solace.

"nothing they were nothing...saw nothing except the other's returning gaze which each knew also saw nothing

And in this likeness this scrap of likeness that contained their likelihood they arose once more calmly the tall twin centers of compassion in the wide field of cold and horror And the sun the huge sun circled around them..."

returning your gaze))

Marion said...

I don't think I've read it, but I'll look it up. I understand...and your gaze is returned with love. xo