The Answer, by Jack Gilbert

The Answer

Image Is the clarity, the simplicity, an arriving
or an emptying out? If the heart persists
in waiting, does it begin to lessen?
If we are always good does God lose track
of us? When I wake at night, there is
something important there. Like the humming
of giant turbines in the high-ceilinged stations
in the slums. There is a silence in me,
absolute and inconvenient. I am haunted
by the day I walked through the Greek village
where everyone was asleep and somebody began
playing Chopin, slowly, faintly, inside
the upper floor of a plain white stone house.

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About j. j. marino

As a creaky & cranky a-social agoraphobic anchorite, living in seclusion in the Great North Woods & keeping centered by the Power of the Written Word, a blog would seem to be a fat pitch in my strike zone.

Posted on March 6, 2012, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. I really like this. Reminded me of walking through an older section of Trieste, IT when somebody started playing folk songs on a mandolin & i stopped and listened for some timeleaning against a cool wall in the sweltering summer heat. Blissful moments.
    .

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