I Was Reading A Poem
I was reading a poem by Ryōkan about a leaf,
and how it showed the front and the back as it
fell, and I wanted to call someone — my wife,
my brother — to tell about the poem.
And I thought that maybe my telling about the
poem was the front of the leaf and my silence
about the poem was the back.
And then I thought that maybe my telling and
my silence together were honestly just the front
of the leaf, and that the back was something
else, something I didn’t understand.
And then I thought that maybe everything I
understood and everything I didn’t were both
actually just the front of the leaf — so that the
totality of my life was actually just the front of
the leaf, just the one side — which would make
the other side my death. . . .
Unless my life and death together were really
still only the front of the leaf?
I had left the branch. I was falling.
I was loose now in the bright autumn air.
- David Rutschman