I do love the fall, the current of change, but it's always brought with it a little unsettled feeling. That back to school fear. Vague agita...
These old photos bring it on too. My lineage, the songlines. My grandmother Amelia, her playhouse, Bradford Woods, PA. circa1916
My mother, at 17. There's so much we'll never know, even about our nearest and dearest. Can anyone really tell it all? So many perfect secrets never whispered. Where do they all go? Why don't we take more time, listen harder, ask.
Fall, so many changes. That's when poetry sustains me. It's the ultimate distillation. 100 proof of the things we carry, the secrets we keep.
it will not be simple, it will not be long
it will take little time, it will take all your thought
it will take all your heart, it will take all your breath
it will be short, it will not be simple
it will touch through your ribs, it will take all your heart
it will not be long, it will occupy your thought
as a city is occupied, as a bed is occupied
it will take all your flesh, it will not be simple
You are coming into us who cannot withstand you
you are coming into us who never wanted to withstand you
you are taking parts of us into places never planned
you are going far away with pieces of our lives
it will be short, it will take all your breath
it will not be simple, it will become your will
Adrienne Rich, 1991