Poetry Friday

The Meaning of Simplicity

I hide behind simple things so you'll find me;
if you don't find me, you'll find the things,
you'll touch what my hand has touched,
our hand-prints will merge.

The August moon glitters in the kitchen
like a tin-plated pot (it gets that way
because of what I'm saying to you),
it lights up the empty house and
the house's kneeling silence --
always the silence remains kneeling.

Every word is a doorway
to a meeting, one often canceled,
and that's when a word is true:
when it insists on the meeting.

- Yannis Ritsos