“I swear, I’ll try harder not to miss as much: the tree, or how your fingers under still sleep-stunned sheets coaxed all my colors back.”
— Ada Limón, from The Tree of Fire

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“I swear, I’ll try harder not to miss as much: the tree, or how your fingers under still sleep-stunned sheets coaxed all my colors back.”
— Ada Limón, from The Tree of Fire

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“One gazes into the blue darkness, and dreams of the dream, and one’s eyes hurt, but one is too sore by that time for tears to heal.”
— Vera Brittain, from a letter to Roland Leighton, quoted in Testament of Youth (via proselesbian)
To this dark place I’ve come, and come again
Theodore Roethke, Straw for the Fire
If you could have wings would you want them?
I don’t know.
I mean, if you could use them to fly, would you want them?
Yes, if I could fly.
But they would be really big.
How big?
They might brush against your knees as you walked, or be bigger than some doorways. And what if you couldn’t ever take them off?
I still would want them.
If you couldn’t take them off, even if you were going somewhere, or going to bed, or eating at a table, or you wanted to pick someone up, you could never take them off?
Yes, I would. I would still want them.
Because you could fly?
Yes, because of the flying.
And if they were heavy, or even if no one else had them, and even if your children and their children didn’t have them?
Yes, I think so.
But you would still have arms and hands and legs, and you could still speak, but you had wings, too. You would want the wings, too?
Yes, I would want the wings, too.
And when you were walking around, people would stare at you, and they wouldn’t necessarily understand that you could fly?
I understand. I understand that they wouldn’t understand.
Or if people thought they meant something, something they didn’t really mean?
I would know what the wings were for.
And if you had them, forever—the forever, I mean, that is your life, you would still want them?
Yes, I would want them. I would take them, so long as I could fly.
that I might fly away that I might fly away where the ships that I might fly away where the ships of pine wood pass between the dark cliffs
Susan Stewart, “Wings,” Cinder: New and Selected Poems (Graywolf Press, 2017)
I want as much self-knowledge as I can get—let me not be deceived—but self-knowledge isn’t the goal I seek. Strength, strength is what I want. Strength not to endure, I have done that and it has made me weak—but strength to act—
-Susan Sontag

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“all that’s been wrested from doubt I greet, the mouths opened again after knowing well what silence means.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke, from Sonnets to Orpheus (1922)
To look at the river made of time and water
And to remember time is another river,
To know that we too vanish like the river
And that our faces flow away like water.
To feel that being awake is another sleep
That dreams it is not dreaming, that the death
That spreads fear in our flesh is the very death
That we die every night and call sleep.
To see in the day or in the year a symbol
Of all the days of man and of his years,
And to transmute the insult of the years
Into a music, a murmuring, a symbol.
To see in death a sleep, or in the sunset
A melancholy gold—such is poetry,
Beggared yet immortal, poetry
That comes back like the dawn and like sunset.
Sometimes, in late afternoon, a face
Looks at us from the depths of a dark mirror;
Art ought to be like that unblinking mirror
Revealing to each of us his own true face.
They say Ulysses, sick and tired of marvels,
Wept with love at the sight of Ithaca,
Green and simple. Art is that Ithaca
Of simple, green eternity, not marvels.
And art is also like the unending river,
Going yet staying, mirroring the same
Changeable Heraclitus, who is the same
And yet another, like the unending river.
The Art of Poetry by Robert Mezey
“Tear me apart at the seams but gently, please. I am drowsy and bursting and full of wildflowers.”
— Zoë Lianne, “Honeyed”
“Women’s ‘heal everything, fix everything’ compulsion is a major entrapment constructed by the requirements placed upon us by our own cultures, mainly pressures to prove that we are not just standing around taking up space and enjoying ourselves, but that we have redeemable value… . But the cries of the suffering world cannot all be answered by a single person all the time. We can truly only choose to respond to those that allow us to go home on a regular basis, otherwise our heart-lights dim to almost nothing. What the heart wishes to help is sometimes different from what the soul’s resources be… . It is right and proper that women eke out, liberate, take, make, connive to get, assert their right to go home. Home is a sustained mood or sense that allows us to experience … wonder, vision, peace, freedom from worry, freedom from demands, freedom from constant clacking. All these treasures from home are meant to be cached in the psyche for later use in the topside world.”
— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D., Women Who Run with the Wolves
“Many paths lead from the foot of the mountain, but at the peak we all gaze at the single bright moon. Ikkyu”
—

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“From love bitterness became sweet, from love copper became gold, from love the dregs became pure, from love the pains became medicine, from love the dead became alive, from love the king is made a slave”
— Jalāluddīn Rumī
“O little forest, meekly Touch the snow with low branches! O covered stones Hide the house growth! Secret Vegetal words, Unlettered water, Daily Zero. Pray undistracted Curled tree Carved in steel – Buried zenith! Fire, turn inward To your weak fort, To a burly infant spot, A house of nothing. O peace, bless this mad place: Silence, love this growth. O silence, golden zero Unsetting sun Love winter when the plant says nothing.”
— Love Winter When the Plant Says Nothing by Thomas Merton https://internopoesia.com/tag/love-winter-when-the-plant-says-nothing/
“One of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.”
— Gregory David Roberts, from Shantaram (Scribe, 2004)
“Choose to be in touch with what is wonderful, refreshing, and healing within yourself and around you. Thich Nhat Hanh”
—
“Black is the color of descent. Black is a promise that you will soon know something you did not know before.”
— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype.

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“The bad news is you’re falling through the air, nothing to hang on to, no parachute. The good news is, there’s no ground.”
— Chögyam Trungpa
“کوه با نخستین سنگ ها آغاز می شود …من با نخستین نگاه تو آغاز شدم Mountain begins with the first stones And I came to life with your first gaze”
— شاملو