Those whose days were grudging or confused
may come back trapped within another life
as a boulder, or a pane of glass,
or a door that suffers every time it's slammed.
or a door that suffers every time it's slammed.
If I return a boulder, love, some summer day
come sit by me and contemplate these horses and these hills.
come sit by me and contemplate these horses and these hills.
And if a windowpane, gaze through to see
the meadow on our walks where the brown geese strut.
the meadow on our walks where the brown geese strut.
And if I am a door, come home through me,
be sure I'll keep you safe.
be sure I'll keep you safe.
And if a knotted, twisted rope,
from long self-clenching and complexity,
from long self-clenching and complexity,
oh love, unbind, unbraid me then
until I flow again like windswept hair.
until I flow again like windswept hair.
"Within Another Life" by Barry Spacks. Text as published in Poetry (December, 1999).Art credit: "Wind in your hair," photograph by Alexandru Vita.
This is utterly beautiful. Thank you for this.
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