Calling Back
Texte intégral
Calling Back
For W.S. Merwin
The last time we ever
spoke by phone
things blurring by then
words farther apart
drifting syllable threads
What’s that? you’d say
asking me to repeat something
But how are you really?
knowing you missed Paula too much
to talk about it
We traded words tenderly
your trees
our tree you had planted
so many years ago
when we all had easier times
walking hidden roads
Silences felt lit
soft evening light on my end
afternoon birds on yours
In the gaps
your breathing calm as ever
You laughed
You said Ah well the way
you always did
You held a note
You were still William
in every way
I thanked you for
encouraging me
always
to speak to the dead
out loud
You said they might even
answer sometimes
in ways that might be
important
surely this had been true
already
and would be even more true
later
When we hung up
so reluctantly on my side
I sat at the wooden table
trying to rise
thinking that might be
the last time I ever heard
such a dear voice
in my ear
Maybe our giant palm
that you had planted
from a baby shoot in your pocket
plucked at Gonzales
was bowing down right then
When the phone dinged
your number again
it seemed a mistake
for sure
But your gentle voice
elegant precious voice
that had traveled so many miles
said so many poems
helped so many people
feel more at home in words
than on earth
gift of so many lifetimes
was right there
firmly asking
Could we talk some more?
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Référence électronique
Naomi Shihab Nye, « Calling Back », Transatlantica [En ligne], 2 | 2024, mis en ligne le 01 décembre 2024, consulté le 09 février 2025. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/24132 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/134gu
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