Wrong solitude vinegars the soul,
right solitude oils it.
How fragile we are, between the few good moments.
Coming and going unfinished,
puzzled by fate,
like the half-carved relief
of a fallen donkey, above a church door in Finland.
—2006
From Come, Thief (Alfred A. Knopf, 2011). Copyright © 2013 by Jane Hirshfield. Used with the permission of the author, all rights reserved.