This normative hill <br />like all others <br />is transparently accessible, <br />out there <br />and in the mind, <br />not to be missed <br />except in peril of one's life. <br /> <br />Do not muse on it <br />from a distance: <br />it's not remote <br />for the view only, <br />it's for the sport <br />of climbing. <br /> <br />What the hill demands <br />is a man <br />with forces flowering <br />as from the crevices <br />of rocks and rough surfaces <br />wild flowers <br />force themselves towards the sun <br />and burn <br />for a moment. <br /> <br />How often must I <br />say to myself <br />what I say to others: <br />trust your nerves— <br />in conversation or in bed <br />the rhythm comes. <br /> <br />And once you begin <br />hang on for life. <br />What is survival? <br />What is existence? <br />I am not talking about <br />poetry. I am <br />talking about <br />perishing <br />outrageously <br />and calling it <br />activity. <br />I say: be done with it. <br />I say: <br />you've got to love that hill. <br /> <br />Be wrathful, be impatient <br />that you are not <br />on the hill. Do not forgive <br />yourself or other, <br />though charity <br />is all very well. <br />Do not rest <br />in irony or acceptance. <br />Man should not laugh <br />when he is dying. <br />In decent death <br />you flow into another kind of time <br />which is the hill <br />you always thought you knew.<br /><br />Nissim Ezekiel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hill-3/
