Posts Tagged ‘amor fati’

I choose to love the gray—

not because of any gray affinity,

but because the day is gray.

Read Full Post »

Of Strangers



And so it is that kindness stays with me,

the way the woman in the store smiles at me

when she can tell I might start to cry.


I carry her smile in my pocket all day,

like a coin, something I carry everywhere

with no effort, but sometimes forget, and then,


when my fingers again find the ridged edges,

when I feel the weight of the coin in my palm,

I am struck by how something so small


carries value, carries meaning. All day

the smile stays with me. All day, I touch

it again and again, feel how its weight


tips some invisible scale, how I remember

again to say hello to fate and fall in love.

Read Full Post »

Amor Fati




And the next day,

the flowers are dead.

It always happens this way—

the zinnias go from orange

and gold and pink to fragile gray.

And the cosmos are slender

skeletons of bloom

that blazed only yesterday.

The nasturtiums resemble

drooping weeds from the sea.

The marigold leaves have blackened.

It always happens this way.

And the world goes on.

And the world goes on

with its cyclical necessities.

I pull roots from the ground

and breathe the rich and sour scent

of summer spent and autumn

chill triumphant, and fall

in love with the empty rows,

this is the way, the way it goes.

And it’s beautiful, this absence.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: