Sometimes, when the light strikes at odd angles
and pulls you back into childhood
and you are passing a crumbling mansion
completely hidden behind old willows
or an empty convent guarded by hemlocks
and giant firs standing hip to hip,
you know again that behind that wall,
under the uncut hair of the willows
something secret is going on,
so marvelous and dangerous
that if you crawled through and saw,
you would die, or be happy forever.
– Lisel Mueller
Postscript:
Apologies for the hiatus, folks. Here’s a lovely, lovely poem for my nephew Samarth that talks about the mysteries and wonders that childhood is full of.We’ve run another poem by Lisel Mueller on the site, Romantics. You can read about Lisel Mueller here and a transcript of an interview with her here.
Tagged: childhood, imagery, Lisel Mueller, mystery