Sunday, March 10, 2013

Poetry as reflection

Philippe Petit walks a tightrope
between the twin towers of the World Trade Center
August 7, 1974

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.
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,
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.

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