May Sarton

We cannot save, be saved, but we can stand

Before each presence with gentle heart and hand;

Here in this place, in this time without belief,

Keep the channels open to each other’s grief;

Never accept a death or life as strange

To its essence, but at each second be aware

How God is moving always through each flower

From birth to death in a multiple gesture

Of abnegation

The sun and shade among

Turn each grove to a hymn;

Whole hillsides are in song.

The maples wore a cloud of feathery red,

But flowering trees still showed their clear design

Against the pale blue brightness chilled like wine.

These waves crash on no rock; rooted, they stay,

And if love can be trusted to last out,

Then it must first be disciplined and reasoned

To take all weathers, absences, and doubt.

(For love itself may need a time of sleep),

If I can take the dark with open eyes

And call it seasonal, not harsh or strange

The strange root still alive under the snow,

Love will endure—if I can let you go.

If I can take the dark with open eyes

Out of the passion comes the form,

And only passion keeps it warm.