August 10, 2011

Gentlest of Ways

Edge of a Wood, by Vincent van Gogh

I love you, gentlest of Ways,
who ripened us as we wrestled with you.

You, the great homesickness we could never shake off,
you, the forest that always surrounded us,

you, the song we sang in every silence,
you dark net threading through us.

you began yourself so greatly
on that day when you began us.

From The Book of Hours I, 25

1 comment:

  1. It is from within that the One is gentle or a wrestling beast. At times: so not gentle; but it's the turning and shifting of oneself that makes the change, to recognize that the presence is tender, a sweet song, a dark but loving net spreading. Am I willing to feel this, when I am wrestling and resisting? I picture a tall parent or big brother holding my head while my arms flail against the air . . .


"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Go ahead, bloom recklessly!