black ice
maya stein
I can’t help thinking about that patch on the road
spinning my car in a half-circle. How the trip home became
something else entirely in the flash of a second, the snow suddenly
ruthless, the truth sharp and irreversible, the wreck
bearing down in the dark. Perhaps there is no other way
we would have it. To anticipate loss is to unsee the million ways
the day is lit with voluminous fortune. The mint that settles our stomach.
The stranger who opens the door just before the grocery bag gives way.
An empty park bench resplendent on the city grass.
An unseen hand on our lower back, steering us from broken glass.
I can’t help thinking about that patch on the road
spinning my car in a half-circle. How the trip home became
something else entirely in the flash of a second, the snow suddenly
ruthless, the truth sharp and irreversible, the wreck
bearing down in the dark. Perhaps there is no other way
we would have it. To anticipate loss is to unsee the million ways
the day is lit with voluminous fortune. The mint that settles our stomach.
The stranger who opens the door just before the grocery bag gives way.
An empty park bench resplendent on the city grass.
An unseen hand on our lower back, steering us from broken glass.
Here's to seeing the minute bits of goodness that carry us through unwelcome medical news, job angst, sheer exhaustion of schedule and other mayhaps smaller slings that still wound and scare; all of which have stomped into my circle of close friends' lives this past week. Courage (said with a French accent) and candles to each of you from my zip code.
God only knows the times my life was threatened just today... a reckless car ran out of gas before it ran my way...
ReplyDelete...but I like the way Maya says it better.
Yes, love her line 'to anticipate loss is to unsee...'
ReplyDelete