Hymn to Her

Credit: Patricia Ann McNair

Around the parlor, her five cats
sit calm as Buddhas.  Here she

dwells, at home only at home.
Outside the tedious crumble

of brick walls, she becomes
other.  Outside her windows,

spring is becoming its scruffy
self again: I see the flicker

worrying the spruce bark
for its beetle and the black hole

at the center of the galaxy
in the same light—even though

I am not there to catch either—
as I see her, her cats, and her

universe with a sense
of the solitude of each sight.

~ Ron Houchin

Hymn to Her

Credit: Patricia Ann McNair

Around the parlor, her five cats
sit calm as Buddhas.  Here she

dwells, at home only at home.
Outside the tedious crumble

of brick walls, she becomes
other.  Outside her windows,

spring is becoming its scruffy
self again: I see the flicker

worrying the spruce bark
for its beetle and the black hole

at the center of the galaxy
in the same light—even though

I am not there to catch either—
as I see her, her cats, and her

universe with a sense
of the solitude of each sight.

~ Ron Houchin

Solitude

Source: Pixabay

There is no doubt that solitude is a challenge and to maintain balance within it a precarious business. But I must not forget that, for me, being with people or even with one beloved person for any length of time without solitude is even worse. I lose my center. I feel dispersed, scattered, in pieces. I must have time alone in which to mull over my encounter, and to extract its juice, its essence, to understand what has really happened to me as a consequence of it.

~ May Sarton

Solitude

Source: Pixabay

There is no doubt that solitude is a challenge and to maintain balance within it a precarious business. But I must not forget that, for me, being with people or even with one beloved person for any length of time without solitude is even worse. I lose my center. I feel dispersed, scattered, in pieces. I must have time alone in which to mull over my encounter, and to extract its juice, its essence, to understand what has really happened to me as a consequence of it.

~ May Sarton

Solitude

Photo credit: Wikimedia

So many stones have been thrown at me,
That I'm not frightened of them anymore,
And the pit has become a solid tower,
Tall among tall towers.
I thank the builders,
May care and sadness pass them by.
From here I'll see the sunrise earlier,
Here the sun's last ray rejoices.
And into the windows of my room
The northern breezes often fly.
And from my hand a dove eats grains of wheat...
As for my unfinished page,
The Muse's tawny hand, divinely calm
And delicate, will finish it.

~ Anna Akhmatova

Solitude

Photo credit: Wikimedia

So many stones have been thrown at me,
That I'm not frightened of them anymore,
And the pit has become a solid tower,
Tall among tall towers.
I thank the builders,
May care and sadness pass them by.
From here I'll see the sunrise earlier,
Here the sun's last ray rejoices.
And into the windows of my room
The northern breezes often fly.
And from my hand a dove eats grains of wheat...
As for my unfinished page,
The Muse's tawny hand, divinely calm
And delicate, will finish it.

~ Anna Akhmatova

Solitude

Photo credit: hotblack from morguefile.com

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;

Weep, and you weep alone.

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,

But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;

Sigh, it is lost on the air.

The echoes bound to a joyful sound,

But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;

Grieve, and they turn and go.

They want full measure of all your pleasure,

But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;

Be sad, and you lose them all.

There are none to decline your nectared wine,

But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;

Fast, and the world goes by.

Succeed and give, and it helps you live,

But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure

For a long and lordly train,

But one by one we must all file on

Through the narrow aisles of pain.

-- Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Solitude

Photo credit: hotblack from morguefile.com

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;

Weep, and you weep alone.

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,

But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;

Sigh, it is lost on the air.

The echoes bound to a joyful sound,

But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;

Grieve, and they turn and go.

They want full measure of all your pleasure,

But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;

Be sad, and you lose them all.

There are none to decline your nectared wine,

But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;

Fast, and the world goes by.

Succeed and give, and it helps you live,

But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure

For a long and lordly train,

But one by one we must all file on

Through the narrow aisles of pain.

-- Ella Wheeler Wilcox