A Face

A Face

 It’s just by chance, who you are,

 but given myself

 I take care of this being.

 Nobody else will remember

 its hunger, cold, loneliness: 

I will be reminded, and care. 

 This face, like an old watch,

 I carry wherever I go.

 Grandmothers, grandfathers, you pictures,

 you should forgive my regret:

 my wanting another. I carry it

 as you did. It belongs

 somewhere, and I am taking it there.

 On corners I let the wind

 have all the world, and I turn

 as a ship accepts the waves

 but is itself and has a voyage

 built into it, stubbornly. 

 The choice of being who you are

 is offered us, or being nothing.

 The mask of myself is an old gift

 nobody else took. So I brought it here. 

-- William Stafford

Illustration: Self-Portrait by Gino Severini