"The real trick to life is not to be in the know, but to be in the mystery."
-Fred Alan Wolf

03 November 2016


Homer, Whitling Boy, 1873


When I lay my head in my mother’s lap
 I think how day hides the stars,
 the way I lay hidden once, waiting
 inside my mother’s singing to herself. And I remember
 how she carried me on her back
 between home and the kindergarten,
 once each morning and once each afternoon.
 I don’t know what my mother’s thinking.
 When my son lays his head in my lap, I wonder:
 Do his father’s kisses keep his father’s worries
 from becoming his? I think, Dear God, and remember
 there are stars we haven’t heard from yet:
 They have so far to arrive. Amen,
 I think, and I feel almost comforted.
 I’ve no idea what my child is thinking.
 Between two unknowns, I live my life.
 Between my mother’s hopes, older than I am
 by coming before me, and my child’s wishes, older than I am
 by outliving me. And what’s it like?
 Is it a door, and good-bye on either side?
 A window, and eternity on either side?
 Yes, and a little singing between two great rests.

Li-Young Lee

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