It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?

“The Patience of Ordinary Things” by Pat Schneider
Art: Tori Avey

Text and image source: _/_Peggy @ ECUMENICUS https://www.facebook.com/326734894393/posts/10158650195879394/

SOURCE: Soul Alchemy https://www.facebook.com/186012608273340/posts/1379127808961808/

I hurt

like baby hurt

as in

I need mother’s milk,

Daddy’s shoulder.

The rest of the world

looks at me,

aghast.

Can someone shut up that baby

or toddler?

I am the little girl

weeping in the closet

because I couldn’t tie my shoes

or lock the door.

I hold it all in

like everyone told me to do.

There are more important things

to weep about.

Have you not learned your lesson,

baby girl?

Learn what hurt means.

My heart wants roots
My mind wants wings.
I cannot bear
Their bickerings.

Yip Harburg

Text and image source: Jana Eid https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10163830010020093&id=772270092