Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Pain is filtered

"Pain is filtered in a poem so that it becomes finally, in the end, pleasure."-- Mark Strand

The Remains
by Mark Strand
I empty myself of the names of others. I empty my pockets.
I empty my shoes and leave them beside the road.
At night I turn back the clocks;
I open the family album and look at myself as a boy.

What good does it do? The hours have done their job.
I say my own name. I say goodbye.
The words follow each other downwind.
I love my wife but send her away.

My parents rise out of their thrones
into the milky rooms of clouds. How can I sing?
Time tells me what I am. I change and I am the same.
I empty myself of my life and my life remains.


Mattie said...

I find a close connection to this poet's words. Time, indeed, works against each of us. It seems the poet is 'emptying' everything from his life, but the simple fact is...everything he is trying to cast aside is the very fabric of his 'being'. The poem is sad, a bit melancholy, but there lies a tremendous truth in its lines. I felt each word as I read this. Thank you for sharing.

Leeschwa- MissDangerPants said...

You bet. Mark Strand is one of my favorite poets. Thanks for visiting!