Dust
by Dorianne Laux
Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor—
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn't elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That's how it is sometimes—
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you're just too tired to open it.
From What We Carry. BOA Editions, 1994
A Mark of Resistance by Adrienne Rich Stone by stone I pile this cairn of my intention with the noon's weight on my back, exposed and vulnerable across the slanting fields which I love but cannot save from floods that are to come; can only fasten down with this work of my hands, these painfully assembled stones, in the shape of nothing that has ever existed before. A pile of stones: an assertion that this piece of country matters for large and simple reasons. A mark of resistance, a sign. From Collected Poems 1950-2012 Norton, 2016.
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