What Are Years?
What is our innocence,
what is our guilt? All are
naked, none is safe. And whence
is courage: the unanswered question,
the resolute doubt, --
dumbly calling, deafly listening - that
in misfortune, even death,
encourages others
and in its defeat, stirs
the soul to be strong? He
sees deep and is glad, who
accedes to mortality
and in his imprisonment rises
upon himself as
the sea in a chasm, struggling to be
free and unable to be,
In its surrendering
finds its continuing.
So he who strongly feels,
behaves. The very bird,
grown taller as he sings, steels
his form straight up. Though he is captive,
his mighty singing
says, satisfaction is a lowly
thing, how pure a thing is joy.
This is mortality,
this is eternity.
~ Marianne Moore.
We gave thanks for our family to be to together and it seemed
this year it meant so much more...
Hope yours was delightful. I love the smells, the mess and
fussiness and my Ma yelling at us not to 'sample' the bird
like she always did when we were little and we still don't
listen...
and always eat too much...
~.~ |
