Friday, March 1, 2013

Poetry is like bread


Poetry is like bread
to me
these days

And I need it 
in the pantry
close at hand

For there are storms howling
outside my window
bleaching the landscape
and
driving me inward
deeper into the
center rooms

and even the crazy quilt
isn't enough to
drown out the
loudness of my mind

so I reach for
bread
because it is all I can stomach
for now

and
it
is
enough



 Sweet Blogger Grey









4 comments:

  1. Donna @BrightersideblgMarch 1, 2013 at 4:09 PM

    This is stirring and I feel your feeling here. Sending peaceful wishes to you for all the bread you might ever need, plus a little bit more.

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  2. when we moved here four months ago, i was both voracious and nauseous. i wanted to eat, but feared the outcome, that i might not be able to stomach it if i allowed in all the big ideas and hot debates and . . . well, you know -- stuff you can handle when you're strong. i looked out my window, there, at the bare fields and the wide open, empty spaces. and i knew it would fill me if i would let it. even though the beauty aches a bit in its barren poverty, it was -- no, it *is* -- still enough for me.
    i get this, friend.
    all the way down to my toes, i get this. (and oh-so-good to have you back in the saddle.)

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  3. Holly, your words move me. Wow. The daily bread. The words that are life. In contrast/concert with what you see outside the window. And I love Neruda -- thanks for reminding me how much I needed his words. Holding you close as you continue your walk through this place.

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  4. I miss you. Been looking for a post from you for a couple of weeks, it feels like - so I'm grateful to find this one this morning. Praying you're okay, your mom is okay, your kids are okay. I'm here, is you need conversation. dtrautwein at gmail dot com

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