The past only comes back when the present runs so smoothly that it is like the sliding surface of a deep river. Then one sees through the surface to the depths. In those moments I find one of my greatest satisfactions, not that I am thinking of the past; but it is then that I am living most fully in the present.

—Virginia Woolf, from A Sketch Of The Past (via violentwavesofemotion)

You said: I used to invent love when necessary. When I walked alone on the riverbank. Or whenever the level of salt would rise in my body, I would invent the river.

Mahmoud Darwish, from In the Presence of Absence, translated by Sinan Antoon (Archipelago Books, 2011)

(Source: yesyes, via apoetreflects)

whenever i lean forward
you always seem to be there

listening, waiting for the sound
of my voice

there is something in you
that sees clearly the things

that even i cannot
see about myself

in our conversations we both
lean in, moving inward towards

one another, as if it were a sin
to miss a single word

one of us might say,
an utterance

even when we are apart
i can hear you clearly

calling my name
i always answer

Ron Starbuck, "Leaning Forward," from When Angels Are Born: Poems and Prose Poems (Saint Julian Press, 2012)

(Source: apoetreflects)

your voice
in this being unable to move away
from my gaze
things dispossess me
make of me a ship on a river of stones
if your voice is not
rain alone in my feverish silence
you unbind my eyes
and please
may you never stop

Alejandra Pizarnik, “Presence,” from Alejandra Pizarnik: Selected Poems, trans. Cecilia Rossi (Waterloo Press, 2010)

(Source: apoetreflects)

If you tuck the name of a loved one
under your tongue too long
without speaking it
it becomes blood

Naomi Shihab Nye, from “Hidden,” in Fuel (BOA Editions, Ltd., 1998)

(Source: ahuntersheart, via apoetreflects)

When I first saw her
she was so beautiful
I wanted to be a mirror
and hold all of her.
My eyes couldn’t do that,
much as I tried
to calm them, saying:
‘Drink deep of her face.’

If I had become a lake …
A mirror is all surface
but a lake has depths.
I would have drawn her in,
alive inside me.

Gregory Orr, from “When I first saw …” in The Caged Owl: New & Selected (Copper Canyon Press, 2002)

(Source: apoetreflects, via dailymindfulness)

Let us look for secret things
somewhere in the world,
on the blue shore of silence…

—Pablo Neruda (via songnsilence)

(via streamsofcontext)