It’s so important for poetry to leave enough gaps and
silences for readers to fill in the blanks. I hoped that What Matters would
offer a message of encouragement and hope while giving readers room to map out
their own places in the poems.
No form of survival is ever a “sudden epiphany.” Survival is
a slow process, a measured progression that requires nearly impossible
determination (read “understatement” here). It’s definitely a spiritual
journey—sounds kind of trite, but this trip we call life is about spirit.
For me, and I suspect for many, gratitude is a necessary
part of the process. Of course, it’s hard to be grateful when you stand on the
edge of crash and burn. One day you’re simply living your life and the next
you’re faced with something you didn’t anticipate and aren’t sure you can deal
with. It happens to all of us sooner or later, in one way or another. Surviving
becomes part of the trek, but it’s a lonely walk no matter how much support you
have. Faced with fear, grief, loss, or illness, where do you go? You either
give into the darkness of it all, or you look for a way out. Acceptance is part
of the way back up—a grace that can lead to gratitude. (Stay with me, I’m
working toward rejoicing.) There’s so much for which to be grateful (one more hour,
one more day). Learning how to be grateful is another instrument in
the survival toolbox. If you can manage gratefulness, you can begin to move
away from the damages of what you work to survive. It’s kind of like when the feeling of
the subject matter becomes the poem. You remember how to live, you remember
what happiness is, and that projects itself backward and forward. Slowly, you
begin to rejoice in whatever happiness and love you can find. What do we live
for? From the poem:
Grace is acceptance—
all of it, whatever is—as
in we live for this: love
and gratitude enough.
CONNECT
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