January 8, 2013
I came across some of William Stafford’s poetry today and love this poem (“Ask Me”) he wrote, and as I was reading his words, others tumbling down in my head….
You asked me
When the rain is falling down you asked me
How many teardrops have I shed for ye
I am listening and looking
Outside at all the rain falling…..falling
Glancing up the inside room is empty
But my cheek bone front is flooding
With rushes meant for thee
Tears and all precious are falling…..falling
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.
I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.
William Stafford (plus HC – a wannabe).