Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Not much to say




I just typed out there's not much to say in answer to a friend's anguished question to me regarding the death of dear Maggie this past weekend. And that's the damn truth. I think about Maggie and my friend Sally, her mother, nearly every moment. I opened my eyes this morning and wondered how Sally was opening hers. I think about my Sophie and her own fragility. I think about the fact that she's going weeks without seizures for the first time in her life and what that would mean if she were to suddenly die. I think about Oliver's cry, not too long ago, what is it all for? I think about the Buddhist tenets of suffering, of clinging and not-clinging. I think of the men and women of Wall Street, those that I read of today, the several that I actually know, their secret society where they dress up, act out, mock those that have less, exalt their own goddamned positions. What is there to say about that? I think of the pink Japanese magnolia petals against the blue sky and how the pink curls at the ends into white then brown then falls then rots. I crush it between my fingers, and it stinks, but only faintly. There's the memory of scent behind the decay. But there's not much, and I really don't know what to say.

6 comments:

  1. But what you did say is pure zen poetry. Thank you for reminding me today what truly matters.

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  2. And really- what is there to say? Angella was right though- what you did say was pure and beautiful.

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  3. What's it all for? Love. The chance to love and be loved, I think that's what life is about.

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  4. I've been thinking about Maggie and Sally, too. Been thinking about motherhood and love. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

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  5. many times, words are simply inadequate.

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