Tuesday, November 02, 2010


They tell how it was, and how time
came along, and how it happened
again and again. They tell
the slant life takes when it turns
and slashes your face as a friend.

Any wound is real. In church
a woman lets the sun find
her cheek, and we see the lesson:
there are years in that book;
there are sorrows
a choir can't reach when they sing.

Rows of children lift their faces
of promise,
places where scars will be.

-William Stafford

1 comment:

elise said...

so good. and right.
just found out that the (youngish) father of a close friend had a heart attack and passed this morning.
this just hit a chord.