sometimes all the beauty
in the world
seems to vanish
in one whoosh....
death bookends life
fate turns on its dime
and rugs shift
under our feet....
poems, words, colors, disappear
metaphor leaves....
shall we hope for no more happiness
if gifts come
on the sharp edge
of a knife?
•
perhaps i have fought the grey too long....
perhaps grey needs to be my new favorite color....
do i lose color?
do i merely note loss?
do i thank god for
this opportunity to
find myself alone in the dark?
to reach out to something
more powerful than my own humanity?
i don't know:
everything i think i know
is really everything i can't ever understand....
•
this morning
i stood on my front steps
and this foreign wind
played in my hair,
ran all around my face
and made me dizzy
birds sang confusingly
of nests and mates
and territories....
the sun shone strangely
springlike
and i brought in the laundry....
_____________
© 2011
beth anne boardman
