Because you can only sit in the dark for so long, until the sky opens up again.

Because it is time to wake up.

Because a wound heals eventually.

Because a scar means surviving.

Because another story can begin even if the other hasn’t reached its end yet.

Because I am here. Because you are here.

Because the world turns.

Because there is a crack in everything.

Kay Ryan

We say
A pin hole
of light. We
can’t imagine
how bright
more of it
could be,
the way
this much
defeats night.
It almost
isn’t fair,
poked this,
with such
a small act
to vanquish

Hello, April. Hello, poetry month. Here’s a reminder I’ll never get tired of:

Tenderness and Rot
Kay Ryan

Tenderness and rot
share a border.
And rot is an
aggressive neighbor
Whose iridescence
keeps creeping over.

No lessons
can be drawn
from this however.

One is not
two countries.
One is not meat

It is important
to stay sweet
and loving.

It’s Christmas eve. Feeling a bit melancholy but happier than I’ve ever been. Crossing my fingers that I could hold on to this feeling a bit more longer.

Things Shouldn’t Be So Hard
Kay Ryan

A life should leave
deep tracks:
ruts where she
went out and back
to get the mail
or move the hose
around the yard;
where she used to
stand before the sink,
a worn-out place;
beneath her hand
the china knobs
rubbed down to
white pastilles;
the switch she
used to feel for
in the dark
almost erased.
Her things should
keep her marks.
The passage
of a life should show;
it should abrade.
And when life stops,
a certain space–
however small–
should be left scarred
by the grand and
damaging parade.
Things shouldn’t be so hard.