Monday, March 12, 2012

I Am Vertical

But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
... So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.

Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them--
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.

Sylvia Plath

3 comments:

LKD said...

Oddly, this seems so very Emily Dickinson to me. Very. Especially, the last 8 lines.

I love Plath. But I don't know this poem. Thanks for sharing it.

She died so young.

Maggie said...

Indeed, she did. And I do so feel some of her spirit when I lie down to take pictures like the one below.

"Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them--
Thoughts gone dim."

Maggie said...

"Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers/have time for me."

What an interesting observation.

I am generally thinking Do I have time for the flowers? The yard? The weeding, the rooting, the feeding, the planting, the enjoying?

And the flowers have time for me.

Cryptic, I think. The funeral flowers. They would have time for her.