Friday, April 1, 2016
I give you an emptiness,
I give you a plentitude,
Unwrap them carefully.
--One’s as fragile as the other—
And when you thank me
I’ll pretend not to notice the doubt in your voice
When you say they’re just what you wanted.
Put them on a table by your bed.
When you wake in the morning
They’ll have gone through
The door of sleep into your head.
Wherever you go, they’ll go with you and
Wherever you are you’ll wonder,
Smiling about the fullness you can’t add to
And the emptiness that you can fill.
O’Donohue, J. (1997). Anam cara: A book of Celtic wisdom. New York, NY: Harper/Collins.
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are alike to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
Collected Poems, 1956–1976