Friday, June 02, 2006

Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks

I am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years. . . .


I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper. . . .

When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me. . . .


I am food on the prisoner's plate. . . .

I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills. . . .


I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden. . . .


I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge. . . .


I am the heart contracted by joy. . .
the longest hair, white
before the rest. . . .


I am there in the basket of fruit
presented to the widow. . . .


I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit. . . .


I am the one whose love
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name. . . .



-- Jane Kenyon

3 comments:

Sheryl said...

Beautiful. I've never read this before. I find the ellipses interesting.

Delaleuverses said...

A potent read, great details. Most enjoyed, and glad I stopped by

Suzanne said...

Glad you enjoyed this Sheryl. I hadn't read that one by Kenyon either.


Welcome, thanks for stopping by.