“Autumn Equinox” by W.S. Merwin

One time I was almost ready to be born
before I had begun to remember
the palms of my hands had not yet unfurled
on the one tree of the whole of darkness
the tree before waiting the hearing tree
the left hand had not yet told the right hand
This is our time our season is now
the only time and you must wake and begin
to remember and to know who you are
you will come to remember but forgetting
comes on its own and you will try to tell what cannot be
told and you will have only
the old words and will try to use them
for the first time but the beginning
has gone from the words and there is no way
now to bring it back to them again
the right hand learns but the left hand is the prophet
Pain was waiting that time with her one key
long before the first daylight had appeared