Thursday, June 21, 2012

Ask Me by William Stafford



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. 

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