Sometimes, in the midst of a trying time in one’s life, it is important to step back and take in the big picture. Here is a poem called “River Run” by Charles Wright from his collection, A Short History of the Shadow: Poems
RIVER RUN
In spite of armchair and omelette,
In spite of the daily paradise and quid pro quo,
Like Lorca, I wait for
the things of the other side,
A little river of come and go,
A heartbeat of sorts, a watch tick, a splash in the night.
Wherever I turn, everything looks unworldly
Already,
the stars in their empty boxes, the lights
Of the high houses glowing like stones
Through the thrones of the trees,
the river hushed in a brown study.
What isn’t available is always what’s longed for,
It’s written, erased, then written again.
Thus Lost and Unknown,
Thus Master of the Undeciphered Parchment, thus Hail and Farewell.
It’s not the bullet that kills you, as the song goes,
it’s the hole.
It’s not the water you’ve got to cross, it’s the river.
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