If I had to pick one central theme of this book, it would be: grappling with your place in the world in adulthood, struggling with loneliness (even when you are not alone), and grappling with the death of loved ones. I would like to say i just want one hand-to name it my own.Īnd i’m told, some spaces cannot be filled Hands that no longer exist except in cutting short a life line. I want many hands, hands that have come and gone, What does it mean to be your own new world? With no intention of getting out or getting dry. Lying in this knee-deep pool of self-pity He collapsed as if the weight of the hand was too much,Īs if being touched, even in love, was unbearable.īut we could drown in a glass of water, you and i,
To manage to miss things is an improbable act, to refer to peopleĪs things proves that i miss more of myself than others.
He must exist so she can hold him accountable. She decides god is no good, but he must exist, To stare at the tree's dark bark, to know that in order to go on,Īnd all the parts of us they manage to hold so dearly. "This is why we've come here, for this moment,Īs if we were put here to remember our own ending, When the door slammed, the turned as if to say, Until I saw the bee, lazing its circles about them near the roof. The cats were standing on a wooden ladder next to the house,Īt first glance they were after nothing, scrambling for oblivion, This morning when I opened the screed door, I may need to own my own copy of this book. Sometimes I can't believe she finds ways to connect such seemingly disconnected ideas or images. Her images are surprising, her language stuns me. Her poetry inspires me to write and experiment. I love Ada Limon's poetry, and this collection, a newer collection than the one I own is absolutely amazing.
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