poeming on a tuesday
Certainly you've been excavating. Trying to find what is hidden, what lies deep inside. Certainly you have spent hours - or years - searching for the littlest hint of what is to come.
Certainly you have felt elation when suddenly the sliver appears, and you've felt the excitement when your pounding digging turns to softly brushing off the outer layer so that more can be revealed. Softly, slowly.
Certainly you have wandered away, puzzled at how to continue. And just as certainly, you have come back, determined to rescue whatever small and lovely things lie under all that sediment.
For without a doubt that is ultimately your job, to keep our hope up that there is something beautiful under all that mud. To keep us all searching so that we may find our own beautiful treasures, locked under all those layers. Maybe now we can all begin our training alongside you, certain that there will be something worth finding.
This one's a prose poem. Sometimes they just come out that way, I just write them and edit them and there they are. This is the benefit of years and years of practice: making space for the words to flow.
Poetry is my refuge. My excavation. My lifeline. I am feeling even more compelled to write (and read) poems at this moment in time, when grief threatens to overwhelm us all.
On Sunday, we went outside to welcome our babysitter and found two packages on the porch (they had probably been delivered late on Saturday, but who knows). One of them included this great Dig A Dino kit. It's aimed at kids a bit older than Remy, but that just means mom and dad get to help, right? Hell to the yes!
We spent a long time carving out the top layer of sediment, searching for the first bone. M and I took turns doing the hardest "digging" and Remy used the brush to get off the dust. I briefly considered using one of my bigger painting brushes to speed things up, but I don't actually want to ruin my painting brushes with so much plaster dust. And who cares how long it takes to dig out the dino? The fun is in the search!
May you keep searching for those buried treasures, because they are surely there and there is much fun to be had in the search. Even if you do have to get your hands dirty; it's worth it.
Even if you have to excavate through tears and pain, it's worth it. There is beauty underneath. There is beauty everywhere.