My soul dried up. Like a soul cast into fire, but not completely, not to annihilation. Parched, it continued. Brittle, not from solitude but from mistrust, the aftermath of violence.
Spirit, invited to leave the body, to stand expose a moment, trembling, as before your presentation to the divine-- spirit lured out of solitude by the promise of grace, how will you ever again believe the love of another being?
My soul withered and shrank. The body became for it too large a garment.
And when hope was returned to me it was another hope entirely.
some lines are not supposed to be connected, but it is hard to read and type all at once for me. it is hard to read and do anything else for me
( ... )
i love this poem and louise gluck and walt whitman and i will treasure any poetry you leave for me. i'm keeping this entry posted as public because you feel like mountains, love you bluebird.
have a grand time at the aquarium. i'm leaving for athens, ga in a few hours, maybe i'll call you.
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Like a soul cast into fire, but not completely,
not to annihilation. Parched, it continued. Brittle,
not from solitude but from mistrust,
the aftermath of violence.
Spirit, invited to leave the body,
to stand expose a moment,
trembling, as before
your presentation to the divine--
spirit lured out of solitude
by the promise of grace,
how will you ever again believe the love of another being?
My soul withered and shrank.
The body became for it too large a garment.
And when hope was returned to me
it was another hope entirely.
The Garment Louise Gluck
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have a grand time at the aquarium. i'm leaving for athens, ga in a few hours, maybe i'll call you.
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