Friday poem: To Waiting

29 01 2010

Bit behind in bloggin’, but Friday bails me out: poetry!

Who this week?

It turned out to be less about the who than the what; subject, not author (although I do like this author).

So: I have been unsettled all week. Ending one job, starting another, looking ahead to starting yet another. I’m pleased to have the ‘yet another’, but uneasy as to how it will go, how will I adapt to a FT 9-5 position. And, given that it is only temporary (tho’ long-term), uneasy as to what I will do, after.

It’s good to be able to pay the rent, but, as always when I’m not writing, I think Is this what I came to New York for?

Unsettlement, unease, and restless, always restless.

Thus, this poem by WS Merwin:

To Waiting

You spend so much of your time
expecting to become
someone else
always someone
who will be different
someone to whom a moment
whatever moment it may be
at last has come
and who has been
met and transformed
into no longer being you
and so has forgotten you

meanwhile in your life
you hardly notice
the world around you
lights changing
sirens dying along the buildings
your eyes intent
on a sight you do not see yet
not yet there
as long as you
are only yourself

with whom as you
recall you were
never happy
to be left alone for long