poor (zombie) mudpuddle

Posted on Posted in journal, scarred for life

Publicity photos taken (and because I didn't get a chance to clean the make-up off pre-surgery, I found mascara in my ear this morning), and home from the surgery, which thankfully I slept through (the upside to being sensitive to drugs is that a dose which should make you drowsy in fact puts you straight to sleep), with half my face bandaged like some kind of new-made zombie.

I am miles and days and weeks behind on the copyedits, so in the meantime, have one of my favourite poems:

I am too alone in the world, and yet not alone enough
to make every hour holy.
I am too small in the world, and yet not tiny enough
just to stand before you like a thing,
dark and shrewd.
I want my will, and I want to be with my will
as it moves towards deed;
and in those quiet, somehow hesitating times,
when something is approaching,
I want to be with those who are wise
or else alone.
I want always to be a mirror that reflects your whole being,
and never to be too blind or too old
to hold your heavy, swaying image.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere do I want to remain folded,
because where I am bent and folded, there I am lie.
And I want my meaning
true for you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I studied
closely for a long, long time,
like a word I finally understood,
like the pitcher of water I use every day ,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that carried me
through the deadliest storm of all.
— Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours

2 thoughts on “poor (zombie) mudpuddle

  1. It's a pity that there isn't an emoticon for 'gob-smacked awe'. What a great poem. I think I need more Rainer Maria Rilke in my life.

  2. It's awesome, isn't it? I love Rilke. The translation aspect bugs me (for instance, I've read the line translated as "I want to be with those who know secret things, or else alone", which I prefer), but even with that little bug that man knew how to make his words lay you out flat.

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