Friday's poem: For Precision by Judith Wright

As always, when in doubt, weariness, and anxiety there is the poetry of Judith Wright. 

The poem For Precision was written in 1955, the year of my birth.

For Precision
Judith Wright

Yet I go on from day to day, betraying
the core of light, the depth of darkness-
my speech inexact, the note not right, 
never quite sure what  I am saying-

on the periphery of truth. Uphold me now,
pure colours, blacks and whites, bells on the central tone,
middays, midnights. I wander among cross-lights.
Let me be sure and economical as the rayed
suns, stars, flowers: wheels let me fall as a gull, a hawk,

through the confusions of foggy talk,
and pin with one irremediable stroke-
what?- the escaping wavering wandering light,
the blur, the brilliance; forming into one chord

what's separate and distracted; making the vague hard-
catching the wraith-speaking with a pure voice,
and that the gull's sole note like a steel nail
that driven through cloud, sky and irrelevant seas,
joins all, gives all a meaning, makes all whole.