Invisible Aid
  • Home
  • Ruminating
  • Dream matters
    • Dreams and their corollaries

Silk Cord, Jane Hirshfield

2/16/2014

 
In the dream the string had broken
and I was trying to
pick out its beads among all others.

The large coral beads,
the beads of turquoise and ivory--
these were not mine.
Carved and ridged with color, burnished, weighty--
my hands passed over them without regret or pause.

The tiny ones,
of glass,
almost invisible against the white cotton bedspread--
these were mine.

The hole in the center
scarcely discernible as different from the bead itself,
the bead around it
scarcely discernible as different from the bed or floor or air--

with trembling fingers
I lifted them
into the jar my other hand cupped closely to one breast.

Not precious, merely glass, almost invisible.
How terrified I was at the thought of missing even one.

While I live, I thought, they are mine to care for.

Then wakened heavy with what I recognized at once
as an entirely warranted grief,

frantic for something plain and clear
and almost without substance,
that I myself had scattered, that I myself must find.

In Given Sugar, Given Salt, 2002


Comments are closed.

    dream bazaar, everyday

    Picture

    Archives

    May 2023
    February 2023
    January 2023
    September 2018
    July 2016
    February 2016
    November 2015
    October 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    February 2014
    October 2013
    August 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.