I came across this rather haunting and meditative little poem a couple of weeks ago while catching up on issues of Poetry. That last image--of the child carried up to bed by his father--is just perfect, especially as a metaphor for getting through "the last days." I also love the contradiction inherent in a Psalm being "read" with "closed eyes," echoed in the idea of maybe being awakened but not knowing it. Terrific stuff.
By D. Nurkse
Ignorance will carry me through the last days,
the blistering cities, over briny rivers
swarming with jellyfish, as once my father
carried me from the car up the tacked carpet
to the white bed, and if I woke, I never knew it.
No comments:
Post a Comment