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You have to let things Occupy their own space. This room is small, But the green settee Likes to be here. The big marsh reeds, Crowding out the slough, Find the world good. You have to let things Be as they are. Who knows which of us Deserves the world more?
Copyright © 2012 by Robert Bly. Used with permission of the author.
Oh well, let’s go on eating the grains of eternity. What do we care about improvements in travel? Angels sometimes cross the river on old turtles. Shall we worry about who gets left behind? That one bird flying through the clouds is enough. Your sweet face at the door of the house is enough. The two farm horses stubbornly pull the wagon. The mad crows carry away the tablecloth. Most of the time, we live through the night. Let’s not drive the wild angels from our door. Maybe the mad fields of grain will move. Maybe the troubled rocks will learn to walk. It’s all right if we’re trouble
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