This poem keeps drawing me to it, or it to me, and I don’t know why. The last two lines come back to me when I wake up at night, or sometimes when I’ve been walking or hiking for a long time. I don’t know where I found this poem, or where it found me. Sometimes when I read it, the hard times, I feel like a child who doesn’t know what she did wrong, why she’s being yelled at, a child who would do anything to be better and to make it better. Other times I feel a huge relief, a letting-go, as though the you in the poem, in the ending three lines, has finally found me and I don’t have to keep trying anymore.
[I am], by Vera Pavlova, translated by Steven Seymour
being driven in
while I try
will get tired
or the hammer
or the board
will crack and I
into a cozy nook
and will find you there
For more information on Vera Pavlova, please click here,
For more information on Steven Seymour, who translated this poem (and who is also, I just found out when I googled him, married to Pavlova), please click here.