the layers

i have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and i am not who i was,
though, some principle of being
abides, from which i struggle
not to stray.
when i look behind,
as i am compelled to look
before i can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
i see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
oh, i have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
how shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
in a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
yet i turn, i turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever i need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
in my darkest night,
when the moon is covered
and i roamed through the wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"live in the layers,
not on the litter."
though i lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
i am not done with my changes.

stanley kunitz