TO THE SPIDERS OF THIS ROOM
You who waited here before me
in silence mothers of silence
I always knew you were present
whether or not I could see you
in your gray clouds your high corners
spinners of the depths of shadows
who recur without memory
rising from beneath the moment
as it breathes trembles and is gone
bearers of a message not known
heirs of an unseen lineage
this is the moment to thank you
for ever appearing to me
through these years keepers of no word
attentive in this mute room while
the bird sang and the rain murmured
and the voice echoed from the road
patient guardians who revealed
in each sound the hour of the fly
— W.S. Merwin, from his book The Pupil. Copyright © 2001 by W. S. Merwin. Used by permission of the publishers, A.A. Knopf.
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