To love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again. ~Ellen Bass
(Book: Mules of Love https://amzn.to/3wstyvV)
posted by Philo thoughts along with a great photo!
I really like the poem. And the sentiment. But I don’t love life, I don’t even like it. My take on it all is the exact opposite of the poem, as far as I know. Although I do love walks in the woods. With my dog. But my dog isn’t here anymore. She left me on March 13 of last year. I don’t think I posted about that but I might have. And then there’s the woods…no where near here and the drive doesn’t work. So. There you have it. And it’s only Tuesday.