i am…which is to say
Now cosmos in bloom and snow-in-summer
opening along the garden’s stone borders,
a moment toward a little good fortune,
water from the watering can,
to blossom, so natural, it seems, and still
the oldest blooms outside my door are flourishing
according to their seedtime.
They have lived as in trust
of tended ground, not of many seasons
as the lingering bud in late summer,
when leaves have reached their greenest,
when a chill enters the nights,
when a star I’ve turned to, night after night,
vanished in the shift of constellations.
But when on a bare branch,
even in August, a sprig starts,
sprig to stem—as if to say, See,
there’s kinship with the perennials
you think so hardy—voice
the moment among the oaks, toast
the spring in summer, as once each May
a shot of vodka is poured on bare dirt
among gravestones to quench the dead,
among the first stars of this new evening.
⭐️
Late Summer by James Brasfield
Sometimes when there is silence, if you listen really closely you can hear your self talk, not actually talking, but talking. Poetry is the forethought of an afterthought, and sometimes those afterthoughts form lines of poetry, or a story even a short story. And other times the insanity of every noise, literally every noise, beats in your ears and a poem is bashed to pieces and then slowed down to a beat; once the feet of your hands lead you along. Poetry is music in words, it is rhythm in verse. That is why I write.
Powerful words on poetry from AllPoetry fan Kayla!
20 years since I stood beneath that wedding arbor
Covered with fake white flowers as real as your love for me
I was full of hope that you could learn to love someone who loved you so completely
I was so desperate
to stay alive
to help you
to wake up whole
to be loved
to touch the world
to sing my songs
to make things right
to know my children
to believe in magic
to think that everything would work out
that karma meant quick resolutions
that God gave those who believe extra credit and special stars
20 years since I stood in dread and trusted that it would be enough for me to be your ‘consolation prize’
that fairytales come true and you would see my inner princess
that abuse has no long shadows
20 years of bleeding
of dying
of rising
20 years of healing
of crying
of letting go
20 years of learning
of living
of finding ground
20 years of breaking
of losing
of gaining again
20 years of giving
of receiving
of lessons profound
20 years from there to here
from here to there
20 years ago
I stood hopeful
in things I didn’t know
how could I know?
wrapped in illusion
hostage of pain
20 years later
I stand filled with a new and better hope
Hope rooted in real
in the healing work I have done
in knowing hearts are made to break
and made to heal
20 years, and I can say,
I am here
I am…
Hope
🦋
Amy Lloyd
I am a woman,
which is to say,
part girl and part suffering.
The first half of my life
has been utterly absorbed
by other people
and by my own demons.
The second half
I will spend laughing.
– Roseanne Cash
NOTHING IS LOST
All through your life, the most precious experiences seem to vanish. Transience turns everything to air. You look behind and see no sign even of a yesterday that was so intense. Yet in truth, nothing ever disappears, nothing is lost. Everything that happens to us in the world passes into us. It all becomes part of the inner temple of the soul and it can never be lost. This is the art of the soul: to harvest your deeper life from all the seasons of your experience. This is probably why the soul never surfaces fully. The intimacy and tenderness of its light would blind us. We continue in our days to wander between the shadowing and the brightening, while all the time a more subtle brightness sustains us. If we could but realize the sureness around us, we would be much more courageous in our lives. The frames of anxiety that keep us caged would dissolve. We would live the life we love and in that way, day by day, free our future from the weight of regret.
John O’Donohue Excerpt from BEAUTY
life: acoustic & amplified 