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 fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simple rapt, aware.
That’s how it is sometimes –
God comes to your window,
all bright and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it. Art by Haley Josephs
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