A Ritual to Read to Each Other

A Ritual to Read to Each Other


If you don't know the kind of person
I am and I don't know the kind of
person you are a pattern that others
made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home
we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal
in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors
of childhood
storming out to play
through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding
each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders
the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe
the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs
but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice,
to something shadowy,
a remote important region
in all who talk:
though we could fool each other,
we should consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life
get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people
be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them
back to sleep;
the signals we give—yes or no, or maybe—
should be clear:
the darkness around us is deep.

—William Stafford

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