When you're 27 and your friends are 78, or 82 - you either Accept your fate: Your friends are going to die, or What Else? This is the only Truth that persists: You are young and people die. And your death doesn't matter, so much. It's not that - it's this: It will never make … Continue reading What Else?
original poem
Dying
When it's my time I want to know: what it feels like There are opportunities for second chances, but this isn't one. I want to know what it was like, before the morphine drip, dripping And the rockabye easing out I woke up in the world screaming What is it like to end?
Everyone Who Searches
And everyone who searches finds - maybe not the missing button, maybe an old note, yellowed photo with a missing corner. And you realize what you find is good enough, or better And the cardigan can do without mending - its gapping filled for now with a memory of summertime, or last year's loss - … Continue reading Everyone Who Searches
do not take
The earth moves Did you know? It pulses with intention. Birds free fall in aerial feats The hive hums The dry leaves whisper their ancient chant And we, We move, too Building, working, fighting, dreaming - not always with intention. But noise, always noise. The earth knows - do you? Our performative toiling is Being, a … Continue reading do not take
untitled
Let me die in the summertime by a window, with the warmth, pushing through the fragile skin of my eyelids Let me die in a quiet room; with the tea kettle on in the kitchen and the laundry spinning, pulsing like blood through beating hearts. Let me die with a cat at my feet and … Continue reading untitled
prayer
A smile between strangers. Watching the robin hunt for insects, folding three loads of laundry, dropping boiling water into the teapot. Writing in your journal, listening to your spouse, sharing: a meal, a ride, Your load. A cool breeze that cuts through humid air. The clack of boots on asphalt. Going, and leaving. Habit and … Continue reading prayer
contented senses
Contentment looks like a sleeping mouse and an old oak tree Contentment feels like a knit wool blanket in grass green sprawled out on your unmade bed. Contentment tastes like mashed potatoes and buttered whole grain toast Contentment sounds like crickets and summer rain Contentment smells like a warm cup of earl gray at 4 … Continue reading contented senses
attend to life
Each minute doesn't have to count but it has to matter Each waking eye Each phase of the moon Each dawn and rain it's bound to come again but never with just the same flourish or shape or pattern. It doesn't have to count but it must be acknowledged Each hair brushed just so, each … Continue reading attend to life
Leah Wise 