March 2, 2012

Nothing visible yet, the dark still too profound, and starting the day slow and difficult.  The morning is silent, nothing much awake, and I am not either.  My thoughts are taking a long time to gather, scattered by sleep and slow blood.  I feel like I understand the people who are not morning people this morning, understand their reluctance to come to terms with this early hour.

And I know the perfect poem for this particular morning, if I can just find where I put it.

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Theodore Roethke

A villanelle, the pattern of repeating and repeating, as thoughts do, slow going around, and this morning I am taking my waking slow, and end by going where I have to go.  Even light is slow this morning, but time is not.  It keeps its steady rhythm and has no care whether or not you are keeping up, it will not pass you by but just drag you along and push you out the door.  So, I wake to sleep this morning, and though I am reluctant and muzzy-headed, I must go where I have to go, and so must we all.

Take a slow waking with light eventually taking the trees and everything else.  The day begins and moves on into its own hours, gently and completely, see the world appear out of darkness once again, and be glad.