BLESSINGS AND CURSES poems by Anne Whitehouse

May 18th, 2017 by admin

From our 20th Anniversary Anthology

BLESSINGS AND CURSES poems by Anne Whitehouse

BLESSING XVI There is something to be said for being a renter, of watching over a place without the obligation to improve it. The Native Americans made it a practice to leave little trace of themselves on the landscape. Few of us can bear to travel so lightly. Yet this is our condition: to occupy this life, knowing we will be parted from it, but not when. At sunset my shadow stretches over the sea as I ease myself in for the last swim of summer. For thirty years I’ve immersed in the cold waters of this cove and felt cradled by sea and sky. In their ever-changing immensities I sense the unpossessable sublime. I sink my restless thoughts to silence so I may cleave to my true purpose. Tethered, words enter the mind through the eye or the ear, to make of themselves the weightless structure apprehended wholly or in part, like a shape shifting in the mist, reverberant as a song, to be taken up or forgotten, like spent desire, or sunlight shining on water, a fading reflection.  

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