the thing is

The Thing Is

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

– Ellen Bass

I found this beautiful poem on Light and Pine, a blog I read religiously.

5 thoughts on “the thing is”

  1. This poem filled my heart and eyes this morning. She captures early grief so vividly, the depth of it, the density. I will save this for my grief course. Thank you, Lindsey. I’m also now following Light and Pine.

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