Cana in  General   

What can I tell you that you don't know
that will make you tremble again?

Forsythia
by the roadside, by
wet rocks, on the embankments
underplanted with hyacinth --

For ten years I was happy.
You were there; in a sence,
you were always with me, the house, the garden
constrantly lit,
not with lights as we have in the sky
but with those emblems of light
which are more powerful, being
implicitly some earthly
thing transformed --

And all of it vanished,
reabsorbed into impassive process. Then
what will we see by,
now that the yellow torches have become
green branches?

By Louise Gluck

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Other poems by Louise Gluck:

• A Fantasy
• All Hallows
• April
• Cana
• Castile
• Celestial Music
• Confession
• Early Darkness
• Elms
• First Memory
• Horse
• Labor Day
• Love Poem
• Lullaby
• Matins
• Midnight
• Nostos
• Parable Of The Dove
• Parousia
• Poem
• Portrait
• Retreating Wind
• Saints
• Siren
• Snow
• Snowdrops
• Summer
• The Butterfly
• The Fear Of Burial
• The Garden
• The Gold Lily
• The Pond
• The Red Poppy
• The Silver Lily
• The Triumph Of Achilles
• The Untrustworthy Speaker
• The White Lilies
• The Wild Iris
• The Wish
• Vespers
• Widows