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Posts Tagged ‘devotion’

 

 

I didn’t know then that devotion

was jumping off the high dive into a pool

though there was no life guard,

though there was no telling

what or who else was in that water.

 

I didn’t know devotion would mean

tattooing another’s face to my forehead

the way Frida once did with Diego—

how the whole world would be able to see

what I thought was invisible.

 

I didn’t know devotion meant walking barefoot

into the wind, a wind so strong it shredded my coat.

Didn’t know my destination

would become so unknowable,

would remain so far away.

 

Perhaps I thought it would be more mechanical—

as if the nuts and bolts of you

would meet the nuts and bolts of me,

and through sun and rain we would fuse together,

belly to belly, nose to nose.

 

Instead, I meet devotion now

the way I once met Georgia O’Keefe’s clouds

in the stairwell of the Chicago Art Museum.

I stared at the giant painting, thinking to myself,

That’s not at all what it’s like.  

 

Years later when I visited Abiquiu,

I saw the sky so true to what she’d painted,

gasped to see that herd of perfect ovals

flocked white above the red land.

Perhaps this is what devotion is like—

 

being willing to trust I know nothing at all

of what it looks like. That the only way it reveals itself

is when I meet it with wonder, the way I might meet

the work of a master, willing to be curious,

willing to be awed.

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please kiss them
my palms, I’ve emptied them
in case

*

twilight
everything glazed with shine—
your hum

*

the wind
never asks when it touches me
there

*

these hands, two white birds,
your skin
the sky

*

soft breeze
my longing
grows longer

*

slipping out
of my excuses into something
more comfortable

*

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