Since darkness waits for me, then all the more
Let me go down as waves sweep to the shore
In pride; and let me sing with my last breath;
Sara Teasdale (complete poem here)
Saw this poem quoted on the Virtual Union Square and had to seek out the rest of it. And so re-acquainted myself with a poet I’d once known…
People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child—our own eyes. All is a miracle.
