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Children, children: A Ritual to Read to Each Other

Posted November 22nd, 2008 by jon wolston

 Searching for words. Then my buddy David put this poem by William Stafford in front of me:

 

If you don't know the kind of person I am

and I don't know the kind of person you are

a pattern that others made may prevail in the world

and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

 

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,

a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break

sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood 

storming out to play through the broken dyke.

 

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,

but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,

I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty

to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

 

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,

a remote important region in all who talk:

though we could fool each other, we should consider—

less the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

 

For it is important that awake people be awake,

or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep:

the signals we give—yes or no, or maybe—

should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Both Poem's

Posted November 23rd, 2008 by nightstar

In reading both the poem's you posted

I was set back , I brought into prospective one own life.

Thank you

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William Stafford

Posted November 27th, 2008 by Carrie Andrews

 I love this poem and I love (d) William Stafford. His poems--some of the lines-- just go to the core of one's soul. The line "the darkness around us is deep" is one of those lines that rolls around in my head from time to time. I had the opportunity to meet him several times as my former husband edited the anthology: On William Stafford: The Worth of Local Things (University of Michigan). I miss him being in the world but he's still there, ya know?