Be Present with your want of a Deity
and you shall be present with the Deity
- Thomas Traherne
Sometimes I lose you. Say you are a puppy
and I've left the door ajar. Or I'm due someplace
and can't remember where. In my sticky-uppy
hair and ripped work shirt, I ransack the place
to find my datebook. Gone.
Or I've dropped
my glasses and I'm crawling on all fours
to swab the floor with outstretched hands. I mop
blindly, my heart stuttering with fear.
Don't tell me you are not a puppy. I know.
You're not some destination. But I want to
tell you what it's like to hunt, although
the words are clumsy. Vapor.
What it comes to:
You are the sky, the boat, the oars, the water.
You are the soul that longs to row and you're the rower.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem