The Thing Is
By Ellen Bass
to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weighs you down like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
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This is the Time to be Slow
by John O'Donohue
This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.
Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.
If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.
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Selfies
by Brian Bilston
But he had so many friends, they said,
on hearing the news.
And they went back through his posts,
searching for clues.
But no, there was nothing
to explain it away.
Just selfies, with filters applied,
from that last day.
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Poem (Unnamed)
by Rupi Kaur
when the world comes crashing at your feet
it’s okay to let others
help pick up the pieces
if we’re present to take part in your happiness
when your circumstances are great
we are more than capable
of sharing your pain
- community
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resilience
by Alex Elle
look at you.
still standing
after being
knocked down
and thrown out.
look at you.
still growing
after being
picked and plucked
and prodded out of
your home.
look at you.
still dancing
and singing
after being
defeated and
disassembled.
look at you, love.
still here and hopeful
after it all.
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