Poetry as reflection

Philippe Petit walks a tightrope

between the twin towers of the World Trade Center

August 7, 1974

Air
by W.S. Merwin

      Naturally it is night.
Under the overturned lute with its
One string I am going my way
Which has a strange sound.

This way the dust, that way the dust.
I listen to both sides
But I keep right on.
I remember the leaves sitting in judgment
And then winter.

I remember the rain with its bundle of roads.
The rain taking all its roads.
Nowhere.

Young as I am, old as I am,

I forget tomorrow, the blind man.
I forget the life among the buried windows.
The eyes in the curtains.
The wall
Growing through the immortelles.
I forget silence
The owner of the smile.

This must be what I wanted to be doing,
Walking at night between the two deserts,
Singing.

---

Chaplains at several of the hospice agencies where I've worked often open team meeting with a poem or similar reading, as a way to help us slow down our thoughts and reflect upon what we do. I like the tradition.

Learn more about Philippe Petit here, and about his WTC walk here.