Like the Small Hole by the Path-Side Something Lives In
by Jane Hirshfield
Like the small hole by the path-side something lives in,
in me are lives I do not know the names of,
not the fates of,
nor the hungers of or what they eat.
The eat of me.
Of small and blemished apples in low fields of me
whose rocky streams and droughts I do not drink.
and in my streets-- the narrow one,
unlabeled on the self-map--
they follow stairs down music ears can't follow,
and in my tongue borrowed darkness,
in hours uncounted by the self-clock,
they speak in restless syllables of others losses, other loves.
There too have been the hard extinctions,
missing birds once feasted on and feasting.
There too must be machines
like loud ideas with tungsten bits that grind the day.
A few escape. A mercy.
They leave behind
small holes that something unweighed by the self-scale lives in.
Path. I'm lost in the see-through/ Pane always needs a bath/ between a want and a need to/ butterscotch streetlamps mark my PATH/ my country was of thee...
This Lenten Photo Challenge is almost over. Path is a word that has been used twice, and I'm not a fan. It's hard to believe the path of spring break is also almost over. I think I've done a good job relaxing, enjoying friends, doing a little school work, reading, and merely hanging out. In fact, I even completed most of my tasks I've been putting off. But, let's be honest, I don't think I'm going to make it to the DMV. Sometimes there's roadblocks in these paths in the "to do" world.
Today I give thanks for...
1) Tonight's Sweet 16 game
2) Meeting with a good pal this afternoon
3) Yesterday's Maundy Thursday and today's Good Friday services... Lent.
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