For Trisha
The purpose, of course, is to hold life still,
To turn the fleeting shadow into shade,
Though such a purpose is against life’s will.
Lace and quilts and flowers like a bird’s quills—
Praising what you’ve rescued from time’s blade
Is the purpose, of course. But to hold life still
Can itself raise strange questions: Does it kill
Them differently to have their deaths delayed?
It’s clear our purpose is against life’s will:
Life prefers the running water to the still;
In its world, tulips only bloom to fade.
Our purpose, though, is to hold life still
So the harried gazer can gaze her fill
At this rich jumble purposefully arrayed,
Though such a purpose is against life’s will.
What it means is this: vital moments that spill
Into that quiet space a painting’s made.
The purpose, of course, is to hold life still
Though such a purpose is against life’s will.