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20 April 2008

Poets remind us that it is not the big things, no, not at all

1332a1 What Came to Me   

I took the last
dusty piece of china
out of the barrel.
It was your gravy boat,
with a hard, brown
drop of gravy still
on the porcelain lip.
I grieved for you then
as I never had before.

-Jane Kenyon


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Love the poem and fitting picture. Where DO you find all of your great images???

My daughter loves blanket fuzzies. She walks around with them tucked into her fingers when she sucks her thumb when she's tired. I was on a trip to WI for 5 days (the longest I've been away yet) and found a fuzzy stuck to my jeans.

I cried hysterically. :) I was glad to get home.

Wow. That is all I can think to say.

That is magnificent, searing, and immediate. I have been trying to wrap my head around grief lately, but there is no wrapping one's head around it... rather it's the gravy droplets that go right to the center of it. I think I would die without poetry to guide me.

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