“Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks” by Jane Kenyon

I am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years. . . .
xxxxx
I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper….
xxx
When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me. . . .
xxx
I am food on the prisoner’s plate. . . .
xxx
I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills. . . .
xxx
I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden. . . .
xxx
I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge. . . .
xxx
I am the heart contracted by joy. . . .
xxx
the longest hair, white
before the rest. . . .
xxx
I am there in the basket of fruit
presented to the widow. . . .
xxx
I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit. . . .
xxx
I am the one whose love
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name. . . .
xxx

“Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks” by Jane Kenyon from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon, Graywolf Press  (www.graywolfpress.org.)

This entry was posted in death, poetry, transition and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to “Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks” by Jane Kenyon

  1. I love the way her “I am” embraces so many emotions.

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