October 23
WAITING FOR THE RECOVERY OF OTHERS
I sit on my hands and wait for these bright pennies to earn the lessons of time. I dance my little dance and move on, dropping the pretense of patience. I search other forests, fields, and meetings and encounter many fine plums, though none are the gems incubating at home. I make acceptance my goal and breathe through my days. I watch the bulbs ripen and bloom. I wonder at their beauty, inhale their sweetness. I have lost track of my personal progress. I behold, with charmed dismay, the open chasm before me. I must turn from the flowers and let the new lessons begin.
Don’t show your broken places to everyone, but do show them to someone.
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Spectrum
The quality of the poetry
is so dependent on the quality of the lighting.
Improve the color palette and yes, you’ve guessed the result.
So, I say to you, “Turn up the lights.
Do not write in half-dark grief and limp through the words.
Spotlight what you can and illuminate the rest.
You needn’t make a sound,
needn’t pitch a tent, needn’t build a bridge,
though you may, may if you wish.
And wish is what I do, wish for better light
and when the clouds break loose in the sky let the sun pour in.
I lift my pen and make it all;
for what was needed was this better light.”
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