Skip to main content
By Robert Bly

Your head is still

restless, rolling

east and west.

That body in you

insisting on living

is the old hawk

for whom the world


If I am not

with you when you die,

that is just.

It is all right.

That part of you cleaned

my bones more

than once. But I

will meet you

in the young hawk

whom I see

inside both

you and me; he

will guide

you to the Lord of Night,

who will give you

the tenderness

you wanted here.

Reprinted with the permission of the author.

Source: The Poetry Anthology 1912-2002 (2002)

  • Living
  • Relationships

Poet Bio

Robert Bly
Robert Bly was born in western Minnesota, and attended Harvard University and the University of Iowa. He is a prolific author who has published more than 30 books of poetry, edited a magazine to introduce foreign poets to an English audience, and given workshops on masculinity based on his book Iron John: A Book about Men, the founding text of the mythopoetic men's movement. In his early poems such as "Driving toward the Lac Qui Parle River" and "Waking from Sleep," Bly uses descriptions of American geography to evoke a feeling of solitude and isolation and to reveal a consciousness merging those emotions with landscapes. See More By This Poet

More By This Poet

More Poems about Living

Browse poems about Living

More Poems about Relationships

Browse poems about Relationships Get a random poem