No. Who can bear it. Only someone
who hates herself, who believes
to pull a hand back from a daughter’s cheek
is to put love into her pocket–like one of those ashen Christian
philosophers, or a war-bound soldier.
She is gone again and I will not bear
it, I will drag my grief through a winter
of my own making, refuse
any meadow that recycles itself into
hope. Shit on the cicadas, dry meteor
flash, finicky butterflies. I will wail and thrash
until the whole goddamned golden panorama freezes
over. Then I will sit down and wait for her. Yes.
~ Rita Dove, Demeter, Waiting
Images: Emilia Clarke, my edits
and Winter image via Pinterest
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass… it’s about learning how to dance in the rain.
“If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from
waiting we feel – nothing at all. The best things arrive on time.”
On the corner
at the end of the sky
there is a spot
where one can guard their silence,
where one can wait
for another to see them.
If you’re not at that corner
at the most bewildered lovely time
it is not so much a passionate pain.
You can wait…
and in waiting for that moment
in the silence
of our celestial hearts
we sometimes find
a blown world, a beautiful eye
the most profound lips
that tell us, yes, they tell us…
this is what you were waiting for.
photo: the corner by mrcool1256