Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself --
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.
Mark Strand
3 comments:
Both picture and poem hold me in thrall..Thank you again Cate:)
Coming to visit here is something I look forward to since discovering your blog. Your photography is stunning and your lovely spirit comes through them and your words.
The Strand poem points at so many things. My favorite lines are these:
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
Blessings,
Shyloh
This spoke straight to my heart. Thank you*
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