W.S. Merwin won two Pulitzer Prizes and is perhaps best known for his poem “For the Anniversary of My Death.” Merwin writes,
“Every year without knowing it I have passed the day / When the last fires will wave to me…
Then I will no longer / Find myself in life as in a strange garment / Surprised at the earth / And the love of one woman/ And the shamelessness of men / As today writing after three days of rain / Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease / And bowing not knowing to what.”
I appreciate two ideas in this poem.
The first is it recognizes there is a day when we will all die, and being aware that such a future anniversary exits can prompt us to live our lives with increasing gratitude and awareness.
Second, the concept of “bowing not knowing to what” invites us to reflect on the human instinct to praise and even worship, and that it’s worth considering towards what and whom do we direct our adoration.
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