This poem touches me so very deeply that I share it with you.
what falls away with ease.
Not only the heavy apple,
but also the dried brown strands
of autumn iris from their core.
To let your body
love this world
that gave itself to your care
in all of its ripeness,
and will take itself from you
in equal ripeness and ease,
is also harvest.
And however sharply
you are tested —
this sorrow, that great love —
it too will leave on that clean knife.
from “The October Palace”
credit: the post and photo come from Panhala Poetry
3 thoughts on “Ripeness, by Jane Hirshfield”
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