Giving in to the Ache

FacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

I suppose I should give myself over to this gorgeous ache more often. - Holly Grantham

It happened while sitting at

the kitchen table yesterday morning.

A buttery bloom of sunshine spread slowly

across my left shoulder

and I turned my head toward its warmth.

In the middle of the table sat

the pink peonies I had cut

the day before when, barefoot,

I had run out

in the wet of morning

to gather them in my arms

as if I were in a Mary Oliver poem.

It was then that a shaft of light caught

the petals just so,

like a hand of pastel vellum playing cards,

they were spread

layered and lovely.

I sighed.

Then, again, as we watched the leaves of the

sycamores and the cottonwoods flip

in the rushing wind.

It really is true that,

when rain is coming,

their pale undersides show,

like viridescent fortune tellers.

Just as our faces fall

all tender and open

before tears.

I suppose I should give myself over to

this gorgeous ache more often.

Lift my folded wings and show my underbelly

in all its lovingness.

Tumble all awkwardly into that deep joy pool

So that, perhaps,

I might find you there.

FacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail