~an edited repost from the archives, a lesson I still need all too often to learn~
I went looking for grace—
At a dot-com storefront
(Books or yarn, today?);
In a dressing-room mirror,
Sighing over silk more pleasing on the rack;
In red-gingham pastry paper
From a neighborhood bakery;
In romantic comedy,
Players trying too hard to delight my discontent.
Grace fled in all these pursuits;
Or was it I myself fleeing grace,
Knowing without knowing, deeper,
Its wild autonomy,
Selecting as it wills,
To lavish or lament?
This savage grace apprehended me
Penetrated windowless chamber, deadbolts,
Surprising me in duty’s dictated path—
Blush-pink arms, laden with blossoms,
Reaching heavenward from creekside litter,
Lifting gratitude for spring;
Sunset-pink roses aflame, aglow
Against charred shell of home,
A fiercer burning mere days past;
In after-dinner-mint pastels on pavement.
I found grace,
Insistent on tenacity of hope.