The translucent claws of newborn mice
this pearl cast of color,
the barely perceptible
like a ghosted threshold of being:
here not here.
The single breath we hold
on the thinnest verge of sight:
not there there.
A curve nearly naked
an arc of almost,
a wisp of becoming
a wand__
tiny enough to change me.
--Kimberly Blaeser
We all have the same little bones in our foot
twenty-six with funny names like navicular.
Together they build something strong--
our foot arch a pyramid holding us up.
The bones don't get casts when they break.
We tape them--one phalange to its neighbor for support.
(Other things like sorrow work that way, too--
find healing in the leaning, the closeness.)
Our feet have one quarter of all the bones in our body.
Maybe we should give more honor to feet
and to all those tiny but blessed cogs in the world--
communities, the forgotten architecture of friendship.
--Kimberly Blaeser
[Our grandson Soren]
When I have fears that what I share will never touch this hurting world, I turn to the wild violets growing again from clumps of moss on t...
