A Few Turns of the Moon

A Few Turns of the Moon January 27, 2015


For all the hardships that life throws at us, I have always felt that life keeps living. Perhaps not in the same form or in a way that is recognizable. But life keeps pulsing under everything. And no matter the pain or confusion I face, something in me keeps reaching for that irrepressible pulse. This poem comes from my reaching.




From the balcony of this restaurant, I watch

a hundred lives below: burrowing and laugh-

ing and finding their way. And perhaps because

I’ve lost my father and our beloved dog in the

last year, perhaps because at sixty-three, I see

over the final hill more clearly, I also see the

hundreds on the other side, still burrowing

and laughing and finding their way. I don’t

know if this is alarming or a comfort: that

we go on the same, that the gleam pressed

out of every hardship is the jewel of existence,

here and on the other side. So I spoon my

soup and sip my wine, knowing the balcony

is the gutter and the gutter is the balcony,

that the dark waits all curled up in the light,

and the light, thank God, waits all curled up

in the dark.

A Question to Walk With: Describe a moment in which you have felt the irrepressible force of life coming through.

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