Medicament
This morning’s waking,
tight and tender to the touch,
felt like neck ache,
and all along
the spine of this day
my heart climbed and slid,
ridge-riding
the grief and uncertainty
of these past months,
pushing up towards
bone-like pinnacles,
vertebraic protrusions
of more bad news—
illness and violence,
economic cancer,
people hating their neighbors—
and then
the intentional slide
over cushiony discs
hydrated with hope,
into valleys lush with
stories of great kindness,
dotted with golden gifts,
small sweet buds of peace
that can only bloom
with softened expectations.
Now at the tailbone
of a long sixteen hours,
no Downward Facing Dog
or Bridge Pose can save me
from this hunched pecking
at the keyboard,
almost desperate
to whiplash out a poem
or some semblance thereof.
How many ways
can we find
to harm each other?
and
Aren’t there an equal
number of ways
we can lift and hold,
tilt a hurting person
towards the light,
say
Look—
the way your cheek curves
towards your chin
is poetry.
And
You, over there—
talking to your cats
with your eyes alone,
see how they respond
by blinking back, slowly?
And
Old man, I’ve seen you
water your plants
with deep, unquestioned faith
that they’ll leaf and angle
towards the sun—
and isn’t that grace,
and aren’t we all,
every one of us,
a cure
for someone’s
unease?
–Melinda Coppola
Enjoyed that…..Immensely!
I’m so glad you did, Paul!
What great imagery! And I love the sentiment too. Thank you
Thank you, Deb!
So very lovely. Moving. Thank you.
Thanks for reading, Alexa. I’m glad my words moved you.