Shakespeare Sonnet No. 11

{Callie's Version}

As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this, folly, age, and cold decay.
If all were minded so, the times should cease,
And threescore year would make the world away.
Let those whom nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish;
Look whom she best endowed she gave the more,
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.
 She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby
 Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

-William Shakespeare

Dear Shakespeare, you should've met Mary O.
Probably Flannery O., too. They knew
the desire to print more - knew the slow
going process of it all. Flann'ry threw
herself into prayer: "Keep me working."*
Mary went to the black oaks,** none of whom
could write, but made a space for birds to sing.
Could the story then, come from the silent tomb?
From that other Mary, who could not keep
herself from the woods, either? Who saw space
for a new story, one that she would speak.
The irony, of a woman with a face
we think we know. She tells us to stay; look -
let that copy die. Begin the next book.

*from Flannery O’Connor’s Prayer Journal 11.11.46

**from “Black Oaks,” Devotions, Mary Oliver