6 Comments

  1. hannah
    December 8, 2017 @ 3:42 am

    more than you can say
    by hannah atkinson renglich

    where meaning’s scarce
    you will find the void needed
    to make your own

    you will learn to live
    with clear sight
    and intention
    you will learn to
    love yourself in the
    ways no one else
    knows how

    in the absence
    of fancy words
    or great fanfare
    you will spot the
    quiet joy of simplicities
    and wonder
    at the small things

    when times are hard
    and things don’t make
    sense you
    yes you will
    stretch your toes
    down deeper into mud
    and grow lotus
    thought blossoms

    you will find the
    ways to say the things
    that need saying
    to see what you’re
    looking at and hear
    what you listen to
    and in the soft
    grey break of winter
    dawn you will
    sound your morning
    voice anointed in the steam
    of the day’s first mug

    you will probably be ok
    so you might as well
    love

  2. Anonymous
    December 8, 2017 @ 8:02 pm

    Thanks Hanna – love how you used the theme and identified the silver linings : )

  3. Rachel
    December 8, 2017 @ 9:08 pm

    Love in the face of Autism

    You might as well love, even though he cannot love you back. You might as well listen, even though he cannot talk. You might as well speak, because he is not able to do so. You might as well love.

    You might as well love, even though the days can be long. You might as well listen, because he speaks with his eyes. You might as well speak, because he may nod in agreement. You might as well love.

    You might as well love, even though he may push you away. You might as well listen, because he talks with his actions. You might as well speak, because he needs to hear your voice. You might as well love.

    You might as well love, even though it hurts. You might as well listen, even though it’s quiet. You might as well speak, because someone is listening. You might as well love.

  4. myra
    December 20, 2017 @ 2:14 am

    Life is good and life is sometimes better than good, that life is often not so good.

    I’ve had many good days. When the sun shone so bright and the air felt so thin around me that I could see clearly, I could move and breathe and dance freely. Where the weight was lifted from my shoulders and I could see a glamorous rainbow in front of me and a big golden pot at the bottom of it.
    I’ve also had days when darkness swayed in and stole every ounce of energy and soul from me. I couldn’t bear to open my eyes; I wouldn’t dare to look into yours. The feeling of damage was done, how I was I going to recover.

    You will recover, life is what you make it, and life is never perfect…or is it?

  5. Paula
    December 25, 2017 @ 10:23 pm

    You might as well love.

    But first to understand love. To do that, one must choose the word that they believe to be the opposite of love. There are many. Hate, disappointment, regret, shame, conviction, avoidance. I choose fear. I might as well love means to me to be unafraid.

    I am scared.
    Afraid not to fail, but to not try.
    Afraid not to be, but to be unseen.
    Afraid not to be heard, but to be voiceless.
    Afraid not to be loved, but to be unloved.
    Afraid not to be unforgiven, but to not ask to be.
    I might as well love because I am afraid,
    Not in spite of it.

  6. Nina
    January 8, 2018 @ 11:52 pm

    Chris I love how you giggle with joy after you read a poem!

    The facts of life.
    That life is a terminal condition
    That even as your soul blooms, your right knee will creak and gray hairs will sprout
    That what you think will be, will not be
    and what you can’t imagine will erupt like wildflowers
    That healing hurts but in the best way
    That all you need is love
    That it may takes years to find it in your own canyons
    That speaking the truth is like using a bullhorn where everything vibrates for miles around
    That you will release the boulders of tension in your jaw again with surprise
    That you will long for touch and wonder how
    That all those years of being buttoned up will make slow work of unbuttoning of becoming
    That the bluejay and the mist over the lake and the taste of basil and a soft blanket are what will keep you going
    on and on and on

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