 Sorrows who would believe them winged who would believe they could be beautiful who would believe they could fall so in love with mortals that they would attach themselves rattling their skulls clicking their bony fingers they have heard me beseeching as I whispered into my own cupped hands enough not me again but who can distinguish one human voice amid such choruses of desire -- Lucille Clifton Thank you, dear Denise, for sending me this poem. | ||
Attaching themselves ... Yes it's true
ReplyDeleteWow. Gorgeous poem.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful.
ReplyDeleteDinner .... my kind of dinner.
A nasty comment on the video?What is seriously wrong with people?
Zoey's mom -- Yes -- the same troll visited again and left a ridiculous message. It's weird because he appears to be a "Christian" but is so filled with contempt and hate that it's a little scary.
ReplyDeleteI love the poem too. And wow - catching up on your posts for the past two weeks that I was gone - let me add another mind-blown Holy Shit about the MRI and just let you know that you are in my thoughts as you navigate what that entails for Sophie, and for you. Also, I am absolutely floored by Oliver's poem - I love the whole thing but that first line is going to stay with me a long time - "A dream isn't just anything" - that just speaks to my soul. xo
ReplyDeleteDo you know the difference between a "troll" and a "troller"? A troll is someone "who defaces internet tribute sites with the aim of causing grief to families." And a troller is one who carries within so much self-hatred that it needs to deposit it anywhere as being a troll wasn't enough.
ReplyDeleteOne of my favorite poems btw. After the first time I read it I got into the habit of whispering inside the hollow of my hands whenever I felt like the air around me was getting too hard to breath.
Holy shit!
ReplyDeleteWonder, indeed...I love this, and the photo of your beautiful, luminous girl..
ReplyDeleteYou are most welcome.
ReplyDeleteWow. How can words be collected together like that? Your daughter is glowing in this photo.
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, Aretha Franklin's voice gets me every time.
I woke up thinking about this poem... about, as you say, the wonder of poetry, of words so strung together that they somehow express what cannot be expressed. About the comfort of that. I woke up thinking about Sophie's face in this photo, too, and praying...
ReplyDelete