Thursday, May 08, 2014

Thursday Poem - This

This is what was bequeathed us:
This earth the beloved left
And, leaving,
Left to us.

No other world
But this one:
Willows and the river
And the factory
With its black smokestacks.

No other shore, only this bank
On which the living gather.

No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.

That, and the beloved's clear instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake.

Gregory Orr from 
How Beautiful the Beloved


thewiildmagnola said...

work with what you have.

very nice.

lovely photo.

Guy said...

Hi Cate

A wonderful poem. I lived that the poet included both nature and smokestacks.