Wednesday, January 4, 2017

The lines written inside us


No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.

All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.

All this trying 
to know
who we are
and all this
wanting to know
exactly
what we must do.

What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.




What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire.

What disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.

What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.

Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.


Excerpt from The Winter of Listening from River Flow: New and Selected Poems © David Whyte




"We live in a time where each of us will be asked to reach deeper, speak more bravely, live more from the fierce perspectives of the poetic imagination; find the lines already written inside us: poetry does not take surface political sides, it is always the conversation neither side is having...."




2 comments:

  1. I adore David Whyte's writing! House of Belonging is an absolutely favourite book. Beautiful words and images :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, his words and images are truly glorious! Each poem like a meditation. Blessings of winter to you!

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