“ as some strings, untouched,sound when no one is speaking.So it was when love slipped inside us. ”
Hope is the hardest love we carry.
~ Jane Hirshfield
One breath taken completely; one poem, fully written, fully read - in such a moment, anything can happen.
One way poetry connects is across time. . . . Some echo of a writer's physical experience comes into us when we read her poem.
The heart's actionsare neither the sentence nor its reprieve. Salt hay and thistles, above the cold granite. One bird singing back to another because it can't not.