A Poem for a Thursday #81

Photo by DAVIDCOHEN on Unsplash
May Sarton was an American poet, novelist, and memoirist. Her work is described as "inspirational, touching, honest, and thought-provoking." At the time of her death, Sarton had written 53 books.

Now I become myself. It's taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people's faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
"Hurry, you will be dead before--"
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word 
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gathered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poems, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!

Now I Become Myself
May Sarton


  1. I just started dipping into the book How Poetry Works. The first chapter is a plea to remember that poetry's aim was to be spoken. This poem is a perfect example: so much more beautiful when read aloud!

    1. That sounds like an interesting book. I'll have to look it up.