Posts Tagged ‘ferocity’

Today when the wind

wrests branches from trees,

cartwheels the watering can

snatches my peace,

I search in me

for a way to praise it,

praise a force strong enough

to rip trees from the earth,

push a ship cross the sea,

and shred what I think I know.

There is in me

a vehement storm

that I have tamed

for fifty years.

Is it any wonder

the wind makes me nervous—

not that I don’t know

how to relate to it,

but oh, because

I do.

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The maker of gloves

is busy now. She knows

there are many hands

to sheath, much weeding

to be done. All the paths

of the garden are overrun

by brambles. The fountains

are covered in thorns.

The disarray didn’t happen overnight,

but in our present haste

to make things quickly right,

we’ve arrived with eager hands bare

and now they are bleeding, numb.

Attuned only to beauty,

how tender we’ve let

our hands become.

The maker of gloves

does not waste any time

tsk tsking. She starts

right in on her knitting,

infusing each stitch

with courage, ferocity.

Do not be surprised

when her gloves

arrive at your door.

Slip them on. They are

not for ornament.

She has made

them so you will feel

invincible. It’s not true,

but you must believe it.

The time for hard work has come.



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