The Moment
The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.
No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.
Margaret Atwood
The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.
No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.
Margaret Atwood
.jpg)
So true, so simple and always good to be reminded.
ResponderEliminarWonderful selection dear Silvia, thank you, hugs:) Vesna
beautiful..thank you :)
ResponderEliminarHi
ResponderEliminarWhat a lovely blog!
I love the poems you've chosen.
Thank you!!
Thank you, sapphire! I'm so glad that you enjoy these letters. You are most welcome!!! Warm regards from Buenos Aires :-)
ResponderEliminarDear Sylvia, Your poem speaks true words, and I can feel very good.
ResponderEliminarThank you for your sensibility!
Dear Eva, thank you for your visit and warm presence, always!
ResponderEliminarSo beautiful. I love her poetry. So simple, so clear.
ResponderEliminarI have on my favorites her site
margaretatwood.ca/, but perhaps you have it too :)
Thanks