this is not about getting it right, figuring things out, or hitting a bull's-eye. this is not about an obsession with word choice or an exacting eye on grammatical correctness. this is not about pulling out all the stops with tricky literary devices. this is about looking at life one paragraph at time.
all poems and photographs
© by Maya Stein
all poems and photographs
© by Maya Stein
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Please include a link (www.papayamaya.blogspot.com) when reproducing any of the material in this blog. Thank you!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
© by Maya Stein
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Please include a link (www.papayamaya.blogspot.com) when reproducing any of the material in this blog. Thank you!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thursday, August 05, 2010
evidence
How can I believe in love,
in hope, in the strength it will take
to carry the load of my load?
How can I believe this hour
is the peace I need, or that the highway sign
isn’t a metaphor?
How can I know where the breadcrumbs lead,
what my hands understand
before my mind does, how sometimes, the weather
is just weather?
How do I stop myself
from stopping,
and instead, simply bend
a little lower to the ground,
watch ants circus their way home,
marvel at the thousand shades
of dirt, and nose my way on?
The buses stick to their schedules
as best they can. The airline barely
apologizes for the delay.
So it is alright if it takes me
a thousand times what it should,
and it is alright to be afraid of
the thousand failures just waiting to snap
their alligator jaws, and it is alright
if I shrink a little at the question
of whether this room could possibly contain
my thousand wild imaginations,
because how can I know unless
I stretch almost to the point
of breaking?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
so strong, so vulnerable, so willing to challenge yourself. You, and this poem, are in inspiration.
This is truly such a lovely piece. It makes me feel so at home. I, too, struggle to live within the questions. And it's such a big part of being human! Ah. Thank you for sharing these beautiful, honest words with the world!
just found this via a tweet and holy loveliness - this is just what i needed this morning. thank you.
i love your poetry.
Post a Comment