I’ve been rereading some of the poems I wrote years ago. Here’s one from 2013. I’ve changed a phrase and the order of some words, but the feelings remain the same for me. Reading my work with fresh eyes has given me the push to take up ongoing writing again which I had let slide.
Make it small
like my body is
less than five feet tall
make it small like a molecule or smaller yet, an atom
make it a small circle on the ground of twigs and the shells of robins' eggs that we loved when we were young
make it small our whispered sounds of grief and praise this memorial for what we are losing
make it small so we escape greed and its armies crawling the land make it small of seeming unimportance as you and I return into the night our love of this small world in these pebbled offerings held in our torn hands.
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