Hands Grasping The Wind

830Our hands hold
beauty one moment,
such an exquisite sense
of loss the next.

Grasping
the wind on our fingers.

Life
too excruciating,
too lovely,
not to endure.

We
lean into the wind
arms outstretched,
with the hope
to feel
it all again,
slip over our fingers.

All
over again
slip.

Sculpture by Sassona Norton

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4 Responses to “Hands Grasping The Wind”

  1. Interesting uses of words –

    “Exquisite sense of loss.”

    “Life too lovely not to endure”

    Like the way pain can sometimes feel good.

    I’ll be thinking about this one for a while.

    • I read a poem by Mary Oliver last night — a short one she takes about how we hold “joy and sorrow” in our bodies. How do our bodies hold both joy and sorrow. Then I read the wonderful essay about loneliness on Patti Digh’s blog — I got up and wrote this poem. It’s about impermanence, loss. Better to have loved than not at all.

      All that stuff – we want to hold onto to things but nothing stays the same , it’s like trying to grasp the wind.

  2. Life is a bit like an endurance race eh? Moments too beautiful to handle, the next almost too tragic. As we grow older and wiser we realize each moment contains both.

    The joy of seeing the baby is met with the concern for it’s welfare – pleasure and pain. All of it. A rich, bittersweet, experience.

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