Ice Storm (excerpt) – Jane Kenyon
The most painful longing comes over me.
A longing not of the body …
It could be for beauty -
I mean what Keats was panting after,
for which I love and honor him;
it could be for the promises of God;
or for oblivion, nada; or some condition even more
extreme, which I intuit, but can’t quite name.
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One Comment
Lovely, Lindsey. Kenyon gets right to it.
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