by Emma

i am too alone in the world, and not alone enough
to make every minute holy.
i am too tiny in this world, and not tiny enough
just to lie before you like a thing,
shrewd and secretive.
i want my own will, and i want simply to be with my will,
as it goes toward action,
and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times
when something is coming near,
i want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone.
i want to be a mirror for your whole body,
and i never want to be blind, or to be too old
to hold up your heavy and swaying picture.
i want to unfold.
i don’t want to stay folded anywhere,
because where i am folded, there i am a lie.
and i want my grasp of things
true before you. i want to describe myself
like a painting that i looked at
closely for a long time,
like a saying that i finally understood,
like the pitcher i use everyday,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that took me safely
through the wildest storm of all.

– R. M. Rilke

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