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Li-Young Lee

Li-Young Lee Books

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Rose: Poems

A source page for quotes linked to Li-Young Lee.

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Rose

A source page for quotes linked to Li-Young Lee.

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“Have You Prayed” When the wind turns and asks, in my father’s voice, Have you prayed? I know three things. One: I’m never finished answering to the dead. Two: A man is four winds and three fires. And the four winds are his father’s voice, his mother’s voice . . . Or maybe he’s seven winds and ten fires. And the fires are seeing, hearing, touching, dreaming, thinking . . . Or is he the breath of God? When the wind turns traveler and asks, in my father’s voice, Have you prayed? I remember three things. One: A father’s love is milk and sugar, two-thirds worry, two-thirds grief, and what’s left over is trimmed and leavened to make the bread the dead and the living share. And patience? That’s to endure the terrible leavening and kneading. And wisdom? That’s my father’s face in sleep. When the wind asks, Have you prayed? I know it’s only me reminding myself a flower is one station between earth’s wish and earth’s rapture, and blood was fire, salt, and breath long before it quickened any wand or branch, any limb that woke speaking. It’s just me in the gowns of the wind, or my father through me, asking, Have you found your refuge yet? asking, Are you happy? Strange. A troubled father. A happy son. The wind with a voice. And me talking to no one.”

MemoriesPrayerLonelinessRegretDespairNostalgia
Book:Behind My Eyes: Poems
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“Where is his father? When will his mother be home? How is he going to explain the moon taken hostage, the sea risen to fill up all the mirrors? How is he going to explain the branches beginning to grow from his ribs and throat, the cries and trills starting in his own mouth? And now that ancient sorrow between his hips, his body’s ripe listening; the planet knowing itself at last.”

PoetrySexual Awakening
Book:Book of My Nights: Poems
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“To pull the metal splinter from my palm my father recited a story in a low voice. I watched his lovely face and not the blade. Before the story ended, he'd removed the iron sliver I thought I'd die from. I can't remember the tale, but hear his voice still, a well of dark water, a prayer. And I recall his hands, two measures of tenderness he laid against my face.”

WellsStillsI CanTwoStoriesHandsRememberFacesDiesFatherVoiceWaterDarkPrayerDadLowsLovelyTalesIronMetalsTendernessRecallsPalmsBladesFathers DaySplintersDark WaterLovely Face
Book:Rose: Poems
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“Memory revises me. Even now a letter comes from a place I don’t know, from someone with my name and postmarked years ago, while I await injunctions from the light or the dark; I wait for shapeliness limned, or dissolution. Is paradise due or narrowly missed until another thousand years? I wait in a blue hour and faraway noise of hammering, and on a page a poem begun, something about to be dispersed, something about to come into being.”

KnowsYearsLightNamesWaitingHoursMemoriesDarkThousandPagesYears AgoLettersBlueDuesNoiseParadiseThousand YearsDissolution
Book:The city in which I love you: poems
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“I've been thinking about something for a long time, and I keep noticing that most human speech-if not all human speech-is made with the outgoing breath. This is the strange thing about presence and absence. When we breath in, our bodies are filled with nutrients and nourishment. Our blood is filled with oxygen, our skin gets flush; our bones get harder-they get compacted. Our muscles get toned and we feel very present when we're breathing in. The problem is, that when we're breathing in, we can't speak. So presence and silence have something to do with each other.”

IfsThinkingFeelsHumansLongMadeProblemBodySpeakSilenceBloodStrangeSpeechLong TimeSkinsHarderBreathsFilledBonesAbsenceBreathingMusclesOxygenNourishmentNoticingStrange ThingsNutrientsOutgoing
Author:Li-Young Lee
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