The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Derek Walcott
4 comments:
A beautiful poem. It is like coming home!
The photograph is stunning.
It will not be this year, but next year I will meet you in one of your courses in the Netherlands. I'll have to be patient. But in the meantime I will visit you on your blog.
One of my very favorite poems. Thank you for this beautiful start to my day, in words and sight.
Powerful.
Lovely, cheers Marie
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