Today marks the end of my husband's service in the Air Force---thirty-nine years to the day he was commissioned. And, by luck, we're back in the place where our married life began, thirty-six years ago, at Langley Air Force Base. Today's poetry challenge was to re-visit an old poem, and this one from March 2009 seems most fitting.
I do, and always will.
Annus Mirabilis*
how close is
the edge where we gasp
at the wondrous view
to the place where
addicted to gravity
we fall, and fall, and fall
the attraction is mutual
the disasters are many,
the wonders placed as knots
on a rope. Hand over hand,
the shape of each day
fitting to our palms,
rough and knobby,
we pull our hearts,
tough as burnt sugar
out of the blackened scrape
we’ve gotten ourselves in;
each year a spin
around the sun, nothing
but a dust trail, an annulus,
a common ring, a promise
for years to come
and years past
and this year,
to make full circles
from disasters and wonders,
to hold each miracle
as we fall.
----Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
* Annus Mirabilis: a year of disasters or miracles. In other words, any year in which love exists.
My poetry sisters posts can be found here:
Liz
Rebecca
Andi
Kelly
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe.
