Friday, July 23, 2010

Like a quiet room.

Like a quiet room

Once, long ago,
You knew and loved
Some quiet room --
Not rich,
Nor smartly furnished --
Yet a friendly place,
With doors and windows
Standing open
Day and night,
So, the wide, sweet air,
And the wide, sweet light
Flowed in and out

The wind, too,
Went in and out
Of that room --
And the soft
Singing sound
Of the rain---
And, in spring,
The smell
Of ploughed earth --
What is like
A lusty body calling --
And in Fall,
The wistful fragrance
Of burning leaves,
Stinging, like tears.

Day or night,
The beauty and wonder
Of the World
Streamed freely
Through that open room
And the shadows
Of the leaves
Lay, lovelier than any rug,
On its plain floor.
Even in the darkness
A presence filled it --
Gentle but potent --
Resting you --
Releasing you.

That is the thing
You remember best
About the room --
That sense of life
Filling it.

Passing in and out
Amply, easily,
Bringing its beauty
And wonder,
Its help and healing --
Its lovely pattern
Of wind and rain,
Sunlight and stars,
Ploughed earth
And burning leaves
And brooding darkness.
A simple room,
Without shadowed corners,
Or stuffy draperies,
Or costly treasures --
But space enough
In that room
For all the brave
And beautiful things
That really matter.

Once you loved,
A room like that,
And its memory
Has stayed with you
Always --
And often you've wished
Your life were like that.

There are people
Like that --
Uncluttered people
Whose spirits
Are open to life.
There are
No dark corners
In those people --
No moldy litters
Of hate and fear --
Or dusty draperies
Or pretense,
Or costly knickknacks
Or prejudice and conceit.

Such people are simple,
Open to everything --
Life passes
In and out of them
Amply, easily,
As was intended.
In all its abundance
Of beauty and wonder
And tears.

They are plain --
Those people --
But they have
A quiet richness,
A wide beauty,
A deep power,

That heals you.

You rest
Within their hearts
As in a quiet room.

-- unknown

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I found this poem at Housekeeping in High Heels, and thank Wendy for sharing it there.

1 comment:

  1. We found this poem in faded type within my Mothers things after her death. It made me cry...a lot. In ink, written below the title were the words "for kid". It is a fairly good depiction of my Mom.