In the yard next door,
a pocket of fog like a small heard of bison
swallows azaleas, koi pond, the red-and-gold koi.
To be undivided must mean not knowing you are.
The fog grazes here, then there,
all morning browsing the shallows,
leaving no footprint between my fate and the mountain's.
~ Jane Hirshfield
from After
3 comments:
expunged from self, the cleanest of clean. perhaps this is why I have always been so drawn to fog?
and yet hirshfield does something remarkable in this small poem, not only does she clean us, but she gives the great equalizer presence as bison. she tips my mind.
xo
erin
"To be undivided must mean not knowing you are." Wow - will have to ponder that one! How could one not know they are? - that they exist?... Or have I missed her meaning here...
Love the photo - I may borrow that :)
yes, words to ponder, pointing to an experience of underlying unity lacking boundaries, identities.
photo was an internet find without attribution.
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