… because mine are less than coherent today.
The poem below was included towards the end of In Her Shoes, and I liked it enough to copy it down and then go in search of the author this morning. After some preliminary reading, I think I may have found a new favorite author. e.e. cummings has been the reigning king since early junior high when I discovered “pity this busy monster, manunkind not.” This is by Ranier Maria Rilke (who, despite the Maria middle name, was a man who lived in Germany, but there are troubling pieces about that in the bio if you read it).
I’d like to sing someone to sleep,
By someone sit, and be still.
I’d like to rock you and murmur a song
Be with you on the fringes of sleep
Be the one and only awake in the house
Who would know that the night is cold.
I’d like to listen both inside and out,
Into you, and the world, and the woods.
The clocks call out with their tolling bells,
And you can see to the bottom of time.
Down in the street a stranger goes by
And bothers a passing dog.
Behind come silence, I’ve laid my eyes
On you like an open hand,
And they hold you lightly and let you go,
When something moves in the dark.