As stone suffers of stoniness,
As light of its shiningness,
As birds of their wingedness,
So I of my whoness.

And what the cure of all this?
What the not and not suffering?
What the better and later of this?
What the more me of me?

How for the pain-world to be
More world and no pain?
How for the faithful rain to fall
More wet and more dry?

How for the wilful blood to run
More salt-red and sweet-white?
And how for me in my actualness
To more shriek and more smile?

By no other miracles,
By the same knowing poison,
By an improved anguish,
By my further dying.

Author: Laura (Riding) Jackson

As stone suffers of stoniness,<br />As light of its shiningness,<br />As birds of their wingedness,<br />So I of my whoness.<br /><br />And what the cure of all this?<br />What the not and not suffering?<br />What the better and later of this?<br />What the more me of me?<br /><br />How for the pain-world to be<br />More world and no pain?<br />How for the faithful rain to fall<br />More wet and more dry?<br /><br />How for the wilful blood to run<br />More salt-red and sweet-white?<br />And how for me in my actualness<br />To more shriek and more smile?<br /><br />By no other miracles,<br />By the same knowing poison,<br />By an improved anguish,<br />By my further dying. - Laura (Riding) Jackson

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