Simply Blessed

I’m usually not in the business of pilfering poems.  I like to find my own that resonate with me to post here; yet I’ve shamelessly swiped this one from Panhala because it so spoke to me – such a softness and a gentle yielding in this poem.  You can join Panhala at panhala@yahoogroups.com, if you wish.  Joseph Riley sends out one poem about five days a week and it’s poetry only, no discussion.

When They Sleep

All people are children when they sleep.
There’s no war in them then.
They open their hands and breathe
in that quiet rhythm heaven has given them.

They pucker their lips like small children
and open their hands halfway,
soldiers and statesmen, servants and masters.
The stars stand guard
and a haze veils the sky,
a few hours when no one will do anybody harm.

If only we could speak to one another then
when our hearts are half-open flowers.
Words like golden bees
would drift in.
– God, teach me the language of sleep.

~ Rolf Jacobsen ~

(The Roads Have Come to an End Now, translation by Robert Hedin)