Tag: den of positivity poems

For RBG

I Ask Percy How I Should Live My Life (Ten)

Love, love, love, says Percy.

And run as fast as you can

along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust.

Then, go to sleep.

Give up your body heat, your beating heart.

Then, trust.

Oliver, Mary. Red Bird (p. 55). Beacon Press. Kindle Edition.

Worth another look, as Kim adapts to her 5th grade hybrid model, struggling to hear kids behind their masks and wondering if live conversation is dead, and our own kids start the school year remotely.

Meanwhile, in the 
heavens above home, 
angels rose, 
and birds 
fell on their backs
to catch the last rays
of the day.

Solitaire

Wait.
Breathe.
Relax your eyes.
Look at what you have
from a bird’s eye view. 
Choose cards over screen 
sometimes
to slow down.
Things open up. 
You’ll see. 

Be at Home

Lord, this house has shrunk.
Three floors of living space,
and we stack ourselves in
one room.
By the mercy of God
or a deeper toolbox,
we get along.
We who have fought
like cats in a bag,
seeking refuge 
from the world 
in incompatible ways,
make popcorn, 
and sit,
and watch 
the same 
damn show
for one
sweet 
hour.

The hardest thing about losing what you had
is that you want it back. 

It's unacceptable, 
like waiting.
You push for return,
and work to right the wrong.

But healing doesn't happen
staring at the hurt, or
pressing on the pain.

Healing comes in the wet wracks 
and full-on sobs.

Healing comes on padded paws
when you sleep,  
or daydream,
relaxed 
and
distracted. 
It's somewhere 
soft and easy, 
on that magic path
of enlightened work.

It isn't where you were.
It isn't where you were.
But it's feathered
with downy soft friends
and soulmates.

The hardest thing about losing what you had
is that you want it back. 

It's unacceptable, 
like waiting.
You push for return,
and work to right the wrong.

But healing doesn't happen
staring at the hurt, or
pressing on the pain.

Healing comes in the wet wracks 
and full-on sobs.

Healing comes on padded paws
when you sleep,  
or daydream,
relaxed 
and
distracted. 
It's somewhere 
soft and easy, 
on that magic path
of enlightened work.

It isn't where you were.
It isn't where you were.
But it's feathered
with downy soft friends
and soulmates.

“i thank You God for most this amazing
[snow]day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes...”

-e.e. cummings