Words

Words
Sylvia Plath

Axes
After whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes traveling
Off from the enter like horses.

The sap
Wells like tears, like the
Water striving
To re-establish its mirror
Over the rock

That drops and turns,
A white skull,
Eaten by weedy greens.
Years later I
Encounter them on the road -

Words dry and riderless,
The indefatigable hoof-taps.
While
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.


"It's interesting that last year you put up pictures, but this year you chose to put up words." That's how Gabby reacted when she first saw this, my ever-expanding wall of poetry. Whenever I am particularly struck by a poem I add it to the wall. The only thing that came to my head in response to that, and as a kind of explanation for this particular choice, was this: "She had always wanted words, she loved them, grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape." (The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje) Language is my first love. I adore photography, there is no question about that, but words are my refuge. I think this wall is delightful and something that I am going to continue wherever I end up next.