Lost
by David Wagoner
Collected Poems 1956 - 1976
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
by David Wagoner
Collected Poems 1956 - 1976
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
posted by Cynthia at
6:19 AM
4 Comments:
That is such a wonderful poem. I fell deep into it and just wanted to read and savor it over and over again.
Oooohhh...I like the picture. And did you tweak the words of your "about me" a little? Or did you do that long time ago and I've just been too stupid to look....?
I like the picture too :)
I'm moving from the foothills to the forest in 19 months. This poem made me less afraid to leave what I know.
Beautiful!
Very cool, C. Verrrrrryyy cool.
Paula
P.S. Here is a definition of "cool" as defined by Buson:
"Coolness: The sound of the bell as it leaves the bell."
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