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Gratefulness
I miss you, fellow walkers – dad with double stroller, rainbow legging woman, earnest black hound hauling graybeard man on a never-slack leash. I miss the Marc’s check-out clerk with three nose rings, bitten nails, sardonic asides. Miss the librarian whose voice is soft as my mother’s was back when I sobbed myself weak, her hand stroking my hair while she looked out the window.
Wherever you are now, I wish you well. Cast light around you each night before sleep. I want your granny to pull through, your job to stick around, your landlord to grant you every dispensation. I want flowers to sprout in your garbage, old milk to turn into yogurt. May your junk mail transform into loans forgiven, scholarships granted, grievances forgotten. May we see each other soon, smile in recognition, reimagine a world where we all breathe free.
Posted by kind permission of the poet.
I grew up in a family that did not tell the story. I am listening…
a body is always a body individual or collective (whole or in many pieces) alive…
Let plain things please you again and every ordinary Monday. Bean soup in a white…
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We are delighted to announce the release of Kristi Nelson’s book Wake Up Grateful