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Finally Grateful for Grace

a poem about the mindest where we feel most alive

Photo by Slava Abramovitch on Unsplash

One Hundred Days of Gratitude. Forty-one.

Like everything else teacher
L Cohen said I’m glad I heard it before I was dead.

First I find out
if I’m in a state of grace
if not I go back to bed.

Oh that feeling
of words giving form to a feeling
you couldn’t quite place

thank god, the gods, and the universe’s unloving laws
for the somehow sometimes
state of grace
I sometimes find

the first peace
of mine
since I left your sheets
the loving lighting
the raging making storm
the muses forcing your whole head under
in a pond of passion.

It doesn’t exactly feel good
too honest and aware to bear
for long.

It feels like it should—like a perfect sad song
like how we’d all feel if it all hadn’t gone so wrong.

My overpriced everything
always all packed up in the corner
always tired and ready to run
maybe this time I’ll move

to a state of grace
and stay
till I’m done.



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likes / wants / needs to write poetry apparently