The moment of change is the only poem. – Adrienne Rich
I had these words in my head all day yesterday. And I sat down to my computer and realized that these two pictures from the weekend are both saying the same thing. I shared both on Facebook yesterday: the tree, on my facebook writer page (shameless plea to please like it if you haven’t!) and Whit with the missing teeth, on my personal page.
Sometimes my body and my fingers and the tears in my eyes know something before my brain does. In fact, that’s almost always how it goes. But this, these leaves changing, these baby teeth falling out, it’s all the same, it’s all change, the irrevocable and resolute turning forward of the earth. This, the way the world spins with a mute inexorability that is at once the most violent and the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed, is the black hole at the center of my life. It’s the still point at the center of all my writing, of all my tears, of all my feelings, of all my joys.
Because these moments of change, they are poems. But what I believe is that every moment is a moment of change.
So it’s all poetry. Every second of this life.
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