Tessa, You Made A Difference

Now hold my drooping head.
Go on telling me things.
In that way life continues
to be piquant, sometimes
even sacred, a strange
olfactory sensation.

In that way do we begin
to be conspiratorial.
In the disquieting silence
where no one knew nor cared
there’s mystery and power.
You made a difference.

Even if life’s discontinuous.
And all other threads get
broken, and we’re called
to bury the damn hatchet,
there’s a light reflecting
off the glassy stillness.

Prompt:

Whaddaya know, it’s mid July. June’s pretty much wedding season. And the holiday season’s not quite over is it? Frankly the past year(s) have been illuminating. In terms of friendships, life, love, writing, whatever. And no it’s not quite over yet. Coz we’re not done living yet. I watched a Ted talk yesterday. The guy talked about human needs. The need for certainty. Sure. The need for uncertainty. Err yes, because life gets boring otherwise. The need to feel significant. Wahoo. The need for connection and love. Connection, yes. Love, too scary. I’ll leave you with a quote from Vladimir Nabokov: “At eighty-five…he saw his decline as a ripening and an apotheosis.” Hope you’re inspired to write already.

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