Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
About the size of an old-style dollar bill,
American or Canadian,
mostly the same whites, gray greens, and steel grays
-this little painting (a sketch for a larger one?)
has never earned any money in its life.
Useless and free., it has spent seventy years
as a minor family relic handed along collaterally to owners
who looked at it sometimes, or didn't bother to.
It must be Nova Scotia; only there
......
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream- -and not make dreams your master;
......
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
......
I
Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair
With flowers beneath, above with starry lights,
And set thine altars everywhere,--
On mountain heights,
In woodlands dim with many a dream,
In valleys bright with springs,
And on the curving capes of every stream:
Thou who hast taken to thyself the wings
......
You are the quiet place
where my restlessness softens
the gaze that steadies my unspoken storms
the witness to my smallest hopes
and the heaviness I hide.
In your stillness
I find myself forgiven
before I have the courage to confess
seen without being measured
......
Soms lijkt alles stil
en zwaar als de lucht voor de storm.
Dagen zonder kleur
dalen neer als schaduwen.
Maar ergens,
achter wat nu ondoordringbaar lijkt,
wacht het licht.
Niet overdreven fel,
......
When you trust someone
Without keeping one foot outside the door,
Without second-guessing their words,
Without building a backup plan,
You’re not being foolish.
You’re being real.
Because real trust
Doesn’t wear armour.
It doesn’t carry doubt in its pocket.
......
Her life was simple—
Good,
Happy—
Until the unthinkable happened
And broke her heart.
With time,
Her anger, resentment,
And bitterness
Faded.
......
Aan de rand van het dorp,
waar het land zacht golft
en de wind het gras beroert,
staat een kleine kapel.
Stenen die eeuwen verhalen dragen,
een houten bank die moe is van gebed,
en kaarsen die flikkeren
als adem van de hoop.
......