From time to time I'll post poetry or questions here. Use them as journal prompts if you like, or just a chance to reflect for a few minutes on what they mean to you.
The Poem That Took the Place of a Mountain
There it was, word for word,
The poem that took the place of a mountain.
He breathed its oxygen,
Even when the book lay turned in the dust of his table.
It reminded him how he had needed
A place to go to in his own direction,
How he had recomposed the pines,
Shifted the rocks and picked his way among clouds,
For the outlook that would be right,
Where he would be complete in an unexplained completion:
The exact rock where his inexactness
Would discover, at last, the view toward which they had edged,
Where he could lie and, gazing down at the sea,
Recognize his unique and solitary home.
-Wallace Stevens-
What does this season, a time for us all to go in our own directions, do for you as a person? As a teacher? What views can you see from your exact rock? What can you recognize with time to gaze down at the sea? What will you keep with you even in times when your book is turned in the dust of your table?
