Gifts
Existence gives to me
What does he give to thee?
He gives to me: a pebble
He gives to me: a dewdrop
He gives to me: a piece of string
He gives to me: a straw
Pebble dewdrop piece of string straw
The pebble is a huge dark hill I must climb
The dewdrop’s a great storm lake you must cross
The string was a road he could not find
The straw will be a sign whose meaning they forget
Hill lake road sign
What was it that changed the scene
So desert fades into meadows green?
The answer is that they met a Tiger
The answer is that he met a Balloon,
A Prostitute of Snow, A Gorgeous Salesman
As well as a company of others such as
Sly Tod, Reverend Jones, Kitty Cradle and so on
Who was the Tiger? Christ
Who was the Balloon? Buddha
Emily Bronte and the Emperor Solomon
Who sang of his foot in the doorway.
All these met him. They were hopeful and faithful.
Now the mountain becomes a pebble in my hand
The lake calms down to a dewdrop in a flower
The weary road is a string around your wrist
The mysterious sign is a straw that whistles “Home”
Pebble dewdrop piece of string straw
James Reaney, 1965
From Poems by James Reaney, New Press, 1972. “Gifts” also appears in James Reaney’s play Colours in the Dark, which premiered at the Stratford Festival in 1967.
I read this poem in 1980 in my North American Literature class, taught by Miss Ruth Evans at Lindsay Place High School in Pointe-Claire, QC. It resonated with me but I did not remember the author or all the words. Thank you for publishing this; I had been searching for it for years.
Glad you are a fan of the poem, Leslie — a favourite of mine, too. You might enjoy The Essential James Reaney, available from The Porcupine’s Quill.