To sit down, like a weed among weeds, and rustle in the wind!
Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?
While the soul, after all, is only a window,
and the opening of the window no more difficult
than the wakening from a little sleep.
—"Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches" by Mary Oliver. from West Wind: Prose Poems
Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?
While the soul, after all, is only a window,
and the opening of the window no more difficult
than the wakening from a little sleep.
—"Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches" by Mary Oliver. from West Wind: Prose Poems
“You ever think you could cry so hard that there’d be nothing left in you, like how the wind shakes a tree in a storm until every part of it is run through with wind? I live in the low parts now, most days a little hazy with fever and waiting for the water to stop shivering out of the body. Funny thing about grief, its hold is so bright and determined like a flame, like something almost worth living for.”
–After the Fire, by Ada Limón, from The Carrying.
–After the Fire, by Ada Limón, from The Carrying.
I like when people think I'm either so good or so bad and I don't want them to think I'm just a human who has both dark and light sides.