A person could be soft and strong,
sort of like the sparrows that feed at feeders
beside windows, their small bodies poised
in strength and ease. You could sit beside a sorrow,
and sit straight and resilient, saying to the sorrow
that you are the supervisor, not it, and you
take instructions from the sun and the stars,
not from sorrow. You could get nourishment
from your sorrow, sitting bravely beside it
and softly snacking on the wisdom
that waits inside this feeder
that something has hung beside your life.
No comments:
Post a Comment