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Inspiration: Poems

Poem: “Clearing,” by Martha Postlewaite

Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is your life falls into your own cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know...

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Poem: “Home,” by Warsan Shire

No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark. You only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well. Your neighbours running faster than you, the boy you went to school with who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory is holding a gun...

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Poem: “I Think It’s Brave,” by Lana Rafaela

i think it’s brave that you get up in the morning even if your soul is weary and your bones ache for a rest i think it’s brave that you keep on living even if you don’t know how to anymore i think it’s brave that you push away the waves rolling in every day and you...

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Poem: “The Empathy Party,” by Sarah Sadie

My son barred me from the empathy party his fifth grade classroom hosted. In our evolving dance there are so many events I’m not invited to, moments I’m too intimate to share. Later, he tells me the snacks sucked, crackers and carrot sticks, and there was too much...

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Poem: “Enemies,” by Wendell Berry

If you are not to become a monster, you must care what they think. If you care what they think, how will you not hate them, and so become a monster of the opposite kind? From where then is love to come—love for your enemy that is the way of liberty? From forgiveness....

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Poem: “What Is Given,” by Ralph Murre

The likelihood of finding strawberries tiny and wild and sweet around your ankles on any given day in any given place is not great but sometimes people find strawberries right where they are standing just because it is their turn to be given a taste of something wild...

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Poem: “Magnifying Mirrors,” by Judi Brown

I am getting too old for this for peering into a magnifying mirror whose sole mission is to bring into sharp focus each imperfection as though with a little care and attention I can achieve what passes for beauty as if growing old gracefully doesn't include age spots...

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Poem: “My Moral Life,” by Mark Halliday

Two years hence. When I'm ready. After one more set of poems about my beautiful confusion. After I've read Anna Karenina and Don Quixote and the first volume at least of Proust and one big novel by Thomas Mann— say three years. Three years hence: after I've written an...

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Poem: “Please Don’t,” by Tony Hoagland

Please don't tell the flowers, they think the sun loves them. The grass is under the same simple-minded impression about the rain, the fog, the dew. And when the wind blows, it feels so good they lose control of themselves and swobtoggle wildly around, bumping...

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