I will think of water-lilies
Growing in a darkened pool,
And my breath shall move like water,
And my hands be limp and cool.
It shall be as though I waited
In a wooden place alone;
I will learn the peace of lilies
And will take it for my own.
If a twinge of thought, if yearning
Come like wind into this place,
I will bear it like the shadow
Of a leaf across my face.
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on May 25, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.
I swim down to
look for our four-
chambered house.
The window
in our room still leaf-
darkened, its bruiselight
charged with fault.
Am I very lonely?
I age in reverse until I am as
small as my child
body, my chest swollen
with bright longing
that the walls will not always
greet each other
in collapse—
The lord is kind.
The underworld is lit by half
-moon as if to say, none
of this is evidence,
only decay.
In the drift, this wreck still looks like a life:
everything still hanging is relieved
of its weight like an archer’s arrow
suspended in rags
of snow.
I hunt the me
that made this heavenless night,
my young fear circling your
false beacon, its low
stars and difficult earth stacked
immense against
every fact—
I should be funnier here:
Underwater, iron sinks
weightless as
a kite
plummeting
through peaks.
Copyright © 2019 by Vanessa Angélica Villarreal. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 25, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.