This is one of my all time favorite poems about our inability to prepare for and handle loss, despite previous disappointments, practice and even cynicism. There is a newness to fresh loss and a depth that sorrow can strike, even when we use our best efforts to thwart unexpected pain. One Art The art…
Month: February 2016
Monday Morn
Wakin up to fog Not sure where it came from Maybe the space of loneliness Maybe the lack of anchors On days when I didn’t take the time to kneel So instead I spin spin spin Seeing so many shadows The transient friends of my twenties They didn’t move away They let fall The feeble…
