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Ask Me

 Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made.
Ask me whether what I have done is my life.
Others have come in their slow way into my thought, and some have tried to help or to hurt: ask me what difference their strongest love or hate has made.
I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look at the silent river and wait.
We know the current is there, hidden; and there are comings and goings from miles away that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.

Poem by William Stafford
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