ONE WAY by w.s. merwin

[vorgefuhl.livejournal.com]

ONE WAY


Oh hell, there once again hunger
Gets up in the middle of a meal and without
A word departs. I go after: what
Would I be without her?

                                   It is
Night, I am
As old as pain and I have
No other story.
We do not keep to the telegraph lines.
“Is there a map for this?” I call
After. “Is there even
A name for this? I spend my
Life asking, is there even a name
For you?”

        And what a starved path,
Licking stones; often
I am sure one side has eaten the other.
And with what bitterness I remember
I had not yet had my fill
Of dissatisfaction. My mouth
Works like a heart. More and more
I get like shadows; I find out
How they hate.
                        And then she is gone.

No astonishment anywhere. The owls
Are digesting in silence.
I will not look up again to learn again
That despair has no star.
Don’t ask me why, I
Lift my feet in their dice-boxes.
I believe I continue
As she would have done, I believe.

                            Don’t ask me
Why: this time it is not I
Waking the birds. Somewhere
The light begins to come to itself.
As I walk, the horizon
Climbs down from its tree and moves toward me
With offerings. There
At the table which she has set with
The old plates, she is waiting, and to us
The day returns like a friend
Bringing others.