The Time Seemed Green for Going
Footsteps hurry toward beginning.
The hidden dove’s troubled voice –
beggar, thief, boatman, mist. The tide
rising early, moon taken hostage. I sit
on the rough stoop by the sea grass,
wind in the trees, mother crying
on the stairs. A last look over
the shoulder before leaving. Father
tramples the dew, rows toward what
he can’t see. Night is a river,
the missing pages of the sea, a country
lost. How slow morning comes.
Each of us joins its ongoing story,
falling toward our beginningless past –
stars we haven’t heard from yet.
A lasting echo of heart calling home.
Source: Li-Young Lee, Book of My Nights, “Hurry Toward Beginning”, “From Another Room”, “My Father’s House”, “Degrees of Blue”, “The Moon from Any Window”, “Little Round”, “Pillow”, “Black Petal”, “The Sleepless”, “Our River Now”, “The Hammock”, “Echo and Shadow”, “The Well”