Out of Hiding

One of the best gifts I think I ever received was a framed copy of this poem. It supervises my bookshelf in red velvet, paper torn, and is one of the only pieces of writing I see daily.

As always, thank you for reading this.

"Out of Hiding"

Someone said my name in the garden, 

while I grew smaller
in the spreading shadow of the peonies, 

grew larger by my absence to another,
grew older among the ants, ancient 

under the opening heads of the flowers,
new to myself, and stranger. 

When I heard my name again, it sounded far,
like the name of the child next door,
or a favorite cousin visiting for the summer, 

while the quiet seemed my true name,
a near and inaudible singing
born of hidden ground. 

Quiet to quiet, I called back.
And the birds declared my whereabouts all morning.

by Li-Young Lee, from Book of My Nights (2001)