Doorways Traveler
Doorways Traveler

now i become myself.

Ranunculas

i woke up this morning thinking about this poem. it's probably been blog posted a thousand times before (though being new to this whole thing, i haven't seen it). then again, i suppose the good ones are. and it's on my mind today.

             Now I become myself. It's taken 
             Time, many years and places;
             I have been dissolved and shaken,
             Worn other people's faces,
             Run madly, as if Time were there,
             Terribly old, crying a warning,
             "Hurry, you will be dead before—"
             (What? Before you reach the morning?
             Or the end of the poem is clear?
             Or love safe in the walled city?)
             Now to stand still, to be here,
             Feel my own weight and density!
             The black shadow on the paper
             Is my hand; the shadow of a word
             As thought shapes the shaper
             Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
             All fuses now, falls into place
             From wish to action, word to silence,
             My work, my love, my time, my face
             Gathered into one intense
             Gesture of growing like a plant.
             As slowly as the ripening fruit
             Fertile, detached, and always spent,
             Falls but does not exhaust the root,
             So all the poem is, can give,
             Grows in me to become the song,
             Made so and rooted by love.
             Now there is time and Time is young.
             O, in this single hour I live
             All of myself and do not move.
             I, the pursued, who madly ran,
             Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun.

                                               -may sarton

Categories: inspiring

comments


  • K. Forster (Kifness):

    “Falls but does not exhaust the root”
    something to remember in those trying times!


 

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Doorways Traveler
Doorways Traveler