It’s okay

To Justina 2.0

Prayers, Opus 40, Saugerties, NY ©2015

Guess what?

We are always going to be okay.
We really are.
Everything hurts, then feels good,
and then hurts again…
But in the end, the sun rises, and our hearts beat.
We hug, and sing in our cars,
and sip warm coffee from favorite mugs.
We love and we lose,
and smooth our hands
over cold stones in the river.
We stand naked in the pale light of dawn
and count the breath that leaves
warm from the heat of our lungs.
And feel small and alone,
a bundle of skin holding together a vast consciousness,
laying on the surface of a speck in the universe.

And it’s okay.
It always will be.

~JL©2015

 

The quietest breeze

“How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers
The buck in the snow.”

~Edna St. Vincent Millay

The quietest breeze
was caressing my face,
trying to lovingly erase
sudden tears from my warm,
sodden skin.

His voice was echoing
your words into the wind.

The wounded buck,
dead seventy-plus years
in winters snow,
overlay the idyllic green pasture;
his blood stained my sight.

Your words were shattering
my heart on the hill.

There was a breach in time
surrounding the hemlocks,
and grey rain clouds carried me
back into your world
with my own fractured pain.

I was walking through poetry
into your vision.

Too soon the skies opened,
and the waking dream
was broken
by the mists of rain falling
and the knowledge of the hour.

And your words will ever find me
haunting your gardens at twilight.

~JL©2015

Written after visiting Steepletop, the final home of Edna St. Vincent Millay.

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