I don’t have a whole lot to say these days. I feel better when I’m quiet.
And I haven’t been reading a whole lot either. But last night, while sifting through some Robert Bly, I found this poem. I’ll let it do the talking, for now.
The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog
by Robert Bly
I never intended to have this life, believe me —
It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
At a farm, and they wag but can’t explain.
It’s good if you can accept your life–you’ll notice
Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
To it. Your face thought your life would look
Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.
That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.
Even your parents can’t believe how much you’ve changed.
Sparrows in winter, if you’ve ever held one, all feathers,
Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.
You see them later in hedges. Teachers praise you,
But you can’t quite get back to the winter sparrow.
Your life is a dog. He’s been hungry for miles,
Doesn’t particularly like you, but gives up, and comes in