Holding Flowers
“In English we say ‘I’m tired.’ But in poetry we say I’ve been holding up entire skies with hands that were only ever meant to hold flowers.” – Sophia Bray
“Rest:
as beautiful and necessary a task as any.
How else can we remember to breathe?
to think?
to shut out the world?
to not think?
to regain the strength
to take on the world?
to take in the world
with all our senses?
to dream?”― Shellen Lubin
Endings and beginnings.
Holding hands.
Walking each other home.
Until one takes the lead.
As the other fades, falls behind, rests from work well done.
Sure to come again.
In due time and timing.
Entering familiar spaces with fresh eyes, new hope.
Holding flowers in all seasons.
Skies meant for gazing, not holding.
“Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials
and let loose the wind in the fields.
Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.” – Rainer Maria Rilke
