There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change. People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can’t get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old. Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding. You don’t ever let go of the thread.
Poem recommended by:
Laura
Librarian
Why I chose this poem:
"My dad, a now-retired literature professor, had this particular poem, "The Way It Is" by William Stafford, copied and displayed on his desk in his home office throughout my childhood. I would read it while waiting for our household computer to start up or reboot when I was working on homework, and it became a sort of mantra to come back to the things that matter even when things seem scattered and impossible on a macro level."
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