How capable I am of making a supreme mess of things.
In a heartbeat, I think, I could, by accident, topple walls,
crash floorboards, unstick this thing of us.
And yet, by some miracle or blessing,
each possible disaster crumbles
before I can even set my hands to the fire.
Even as winter blooms
with its intended forecast of mutiny,
I wonder if any tempest
could dare touch this house.
The walls and floorboards haven't moved an inch.
And all I see, spread out
like lush and vigorous certainty,
is something almost resembling
horizon.
4 comments:
How can you be this good? one wonders...
teary eyes
a tightening in my throat
from the beauty of the words
this peace
this whole heartedness
this miracle you describe
thank you
i love how you hold this fragile balance, that you know it could all topple like a match to weeds, that you don't take any of it for granted.
Beautiful. :)
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