HARM’S WAY by W. S. Merwin
How did someone come at last to the word for patience
and know that it was the right word or patience
the sounds had come such a distance from the will to give pain
which that person kept like a word for patience
the word came on in its own time like a star
at such a distance from either pain or patience
it echoed someone in a mirror who threatened with fire
an immortal with no bounds of hatred or patience
the syllables were uttered out of the sound of fire
but in silence they become the word for patience
it is not what the hawk hangs on or the hushed fox
waits with who do not need a word for patience
passing through the sound of another’s pain
it brings with it something of that pain or patience
but how did whoever first came to it convey
to anyone else that it was the word for patience
they must have arrived at other words by then
to be able to use something from pain for patience
there is no such word in the ages of the leaves
in the days of the grass there is no name for patience
many must have traveled the whole way without knowing
that what they wanted was the word for patience
it is as far from patience as William is from me
and yet known to be patience the word for patience
Happy Sunday.
And here is a rather amazing playlist, with a lot of jazz guitar by Robin Towner. I’m in there, too. David Bowie, also.
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