Posts tagged #Poem a Day

attempt (v).

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What do I have to say for this life?
I have tried to make soft and beautiful things
I have tried to get to work on time
I have tried to be a good daughter
I have tried to get together for dinner
I have tried to understand
I have tried to see some of the world
I have tried to get myself to the ocean
I have tried to worry only about the important things
I have tried to love you
I have tried to not love you.

billow (v).

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Wade out with me
past the sea grass and sand bank
past the tide pool and shelled reef,
past even the calm and gentle water,
to the place where we hover
and feel like we could be swallowed whole,
to the place that the water turns
from silver to enveloping blue,
to the place where the waves break
and gather into themselves
and that’s how they become tall.

manual (n).

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Regarding the care of an aching heart:

Be unrelentingly gentle with yourself.
Wade into sweet pools of grace abounding.
Be soft with the way you bandage
your wounds (include ample amounts
of breath and expanse).
Bellow all you need, even
in soggy, ragged sobs. 

Take harbour in the wonder
that you partook in the
sacred, delicate act of
loving another being.  

components (n).

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I so wish dearly to be made
of wit or grandeur or
stories that inspire,
it would be nice also
to be impressive, just once,
or at least tidy; it would be nice
to be a person that people
knew what to make of.

It would be more convenient if
I wasn’t just made of
flowers upon flowers, spilling
out of my chest and
onto the floor,
onto our feet,
even while standing,
so many of us,
in your kitchen.

conifer (n).

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I now understand the growing of trees, 
their rings showing all of the ways
they have survived their previous selves. 

I now understand what it is like
to watch all of the color fall out and away
and wonder if there will be
another day that the wind will
brush through your hair and write
a song with the sound, and wonder
even what the ground is made of
that you were planted in, surely
this isn't god's green earth. 

I now understand the growing of trees,
their branches spilling out of them like arms
reaching for contact, reaching:
is there a posture more defiant
to any force trying to make them
recoil back into winter's cold breath?