Nancy: A dream, and slow rising light, and past and present and unexpected future, and out of that this day, this reality.
bitter greens and fried pies
paw paws and fish sputtering
misty lake iron pan
Granny, Aunt Nannie, Papa
dawns noons twilight
and this is dawn
I think of food
I think of being fed
how food is memory
how food is love
I'm still alive, I say
I'm still alive
shall we have tea?
Alan: When National Public Radio revived the old “This I Believe” program, among the short statements of faith was one that struck me as unarguably sensible: “I believe in biology.”
On The Other Side
When it seemed clear you were dying
we could only live in the moment –
in and for it.
Death, which had always been invisibly with us,
became manifest now in the chairs,
the table, the rug: all the furnishings of our room.
We opened the door called “hope” and stepped through,
closing it gently behind us.
We saw we were in the same room as before.
The door had locked. We could not go back.
So we took up our lives again,
moment by moment, as many moments as there might be –
there, here, there –
hope a door we could no longer open,no longer had need for.