Jane Kenyon, from "Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks"
I am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years....
found again after two hundred years....
I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper....
When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me....
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me....
I am food on the prisoner's plate....
I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills....
filling the pitcher until it spills....
I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden....
of the dry and weedy garden....
I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge....
the latch, and the working hinge....
I am the heart contracted by joy...
the longest hair, white
before the rest....
the longest hair, white
before the rest....
I am there in the basket of fruit
presented to the widow....
presented to the widow....
I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit....
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit....
I am the one whose love
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name.
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name.
Found here:
http://www.inwardoutward.org/author/jane-kenyon
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