MomsBook_asof9.18.17

Canticle for the Commonplace
Every-day-ness contradicts
the passages through grief.
Instead of tears
there’s grocery shopping,
doing dishes, trimming fingernails
and all the rest.
Outside, the evening understands,
comes early,
muting sharp distinctions,
melding past and present
into psalms that sing of time-less-ness.
What has been will always be,
so wake to the mundane,
wrap it like a shawl around the solitude.
In the ordinary,
in the getting out of bed, in paying bills
and in the broken needing to be fixed,
love abides between our memories
and the stories that we tell.