Thinking about the poet William Stafford lately, partly because I was reminded to find and re-read the books of his poetry on our bookshleves. Reminded by Liz when she quoted one of his poems on her blog, Be Present Be Here.
I remember when he died in 1993. I was saddened by the world's loss - of an inspiring teacher and poet. I wish I had known him personally. I met him (once) when he guest taught a creative writing class. I have a few of his books and would love to own more. William Stafford is among my favorite 3 or 4 poets -- the ones I turn to when I am feeling lost, when I need a hand, when I want to feel connected and be reminded that I am always connected because I am part of the world.
Will write more about Stafford and share more of his poetry on my blog as I have time. I the meantime, here is a Stafford poem to accompany my photo of the frozen Boulder River.
by William Stafford
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.
I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.