![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAGUI2hixDrg_zyeVeGAUcaYCUnSKONF5CRC5KVBNNFRMdtY4gAF09_FaOH3t9pzoswBG6rFmrqE6h68l4-CPLZ_EHD_qztTeai-SeIX1u8NX2HWzuZiTwrZKPUSoCQp4OdYiSJn9uf0un/s280/fig2-18.jpg)
In the Museum
Like that, I put the next thing in your
hand--this piece of rock the farthest
climber found, or this, a broken urn
volcano-finished.
Later you'll walk out and say,
"Where's home?"
There will be something lacking
in each room, a part you held
and casually laid down.
You can never get back but
there'll be other talismans,
you have learned to falter
in this good way:
stand still, walk on, remember--
Let one by one things come alive
like fish and swim away
into their future waves.
William Stafford
Posted over on William Stafford Archives
No comments:
Post a Comment