After reading William Stafford’s poem The Way It Is*, I’m becoming more aware of how the many stories I carry are truly one thread, uniquely mine. I see more clearly how I’ve always been following the thread, and writing these words I sense myself resting along its generous length. Yet I have no idea where the thread will be leading me.
Thank you, William Stafford, for the richness of your words, your knowing:
“There’s a thread you follow. It goes among / things that change. But it doesn’t change. / People wonder about what you are pursuing. / You have to explain about the thread. / But it is hard for others to see. / While you hold it you can’t get lost. / Tragedies happen; people get hurt / or die; and you suffer and get old. / Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding. / You don’t ever let go of the thread.”
* True to his habit of writing a poem every morning, William Stafford wrote this poem 26 days before his death on August 28, 1993.
Textiles by: Beatriz Russek, Rosa Nicolás, and Agustina Quiroz. Seen at The School of Visual Arts of Oaxaca, October 2013.