A Poet Writes about Life

Wislawa Szymborska, a Polish poet, died today. She was 89. I am grateful to her for writing her poems and getting them published. Below is one of my favorites.

* * * * *

A Note

Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;

to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain
from everything it's not;

to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.

An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;

and if only once
to stumble upon a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,

mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;
and to keep on not knowing
something important.

   -- by Wislawa Szymborska

Comments

[deanna]

Wonderful poem, Verna. She was gifted. I especially like those last three lines. I guess that's the thing about poetry -- it can say what you almost got around to so many times without realizing it.

[Robin Song]

Verna,
Her poem so reminds me of conversations I have had with many of my friends. A seemingly lazy, deep knowing that comes from experience won at a cost or sometimes with ease. It is like a sigh.
Thanks so for sharing this. I will definately pass it on.
rs