The Layers

I have walked through many lives,

some of them my own,

and I am not who I was,

though some principles of being

abides, from which I struggle

not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look

before I can gather strength

to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling

toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing

from the abandoned camp-sites,

over which scavenger angels

wheel on heavy wings.

Oh, I have made myself a tribe

out of my true affections,

and my tribe is scattered!

How shall the heart be reconciled

to its feast of losses?

In a rising wind

the maniac dust of my friends,

those who fell along the way,

bitterly stings my face.

Yet I turn, I turn,

exulting somewhat

with my will intact to go

wherever I need to go,

and every stone on the road 

precious to me.

In my darkest night

when the moon was covered

and I roamed through wreckage,

a nimbus-clouded voice

directed me:

"Live in the layers"

and though I lack the art 

to decipher it,

no doubt the next chapter

in my book of transformations

is already written.

I am not done with my chapters.

Stanley Kunitz

Many thanks and much love 
to a friend who sent this wonderful poem 

to me 
which captures much 
of what 

I'm feeling 
at this years end.