There is a country to cross you will
find in the corner of your eye, in
the quick slip of your foot--air far
down, a snap that might have caught.
And maybe for you, for me, a high, passing
voice that finds its way by being
afraid. That country is there, for us,
carried as it is crossed. What you fear
will not go away: it will take you into
yourself and bless you and keep you.
That's the world, and we all live there.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 1982 times | Comments (0)

Poet: William Stafford
Poem: For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid
Poem of the Day: Feb 5 2008
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