12 January 2013
It’s day 2 of a 3 day course I am taking this week, and the building overlooks a beautiful part of New Town. The windows have spectacular views.
It’s nice to feel the energy shifting. It’s nice to remember how and when to accept happiness in, and it helps that someone posted an amazing poem in our Facebook group of people who are mourning the loss of such an amazing friend.
And this: Imagine Finding Me.
Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven’t they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will becoming interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.
Don’t go too early.
You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.
Hearing Galway Kinnell reading this poem is transcendent, and seeing him reading it is even more amazing.