Saturday, May 31, 2008

There are Mornings

Even now, when the plot
calls for me to turn to stone,
the sun intervenes. Some mornings
in summer I step outside
and the sky opens
and pours itself into me
as if I were a saint
about to die. But the plot
calls for me to live,
be ordinary, say nothing
to anyone. Inside the house
the mirrors burn when I pass.

--Lisel Mueller


dennis said...

Dennis says

w h a t a g l o r i o u s photo! Brilliant!

Reya Mellicker said...

Sorry Dennis, there is no savoury food in the pic. I'm working on it!

mouse (aka kimy) said...

beautiful poem

beautiful picture


Steve said...

That really is a terrific photo -- as usual. :) And the poem is great too. Who hasn't felt that kind of private jubilation amid the commonplace of every day? (That's how I read it, anyway -- though I'm not sure why the mirrors are burning.)

hele said...

How powerfully beautiful the words are. Perfect for an image that took my breath away.