One must think like a hero to behave like a merely decent human being.

One must think like a hero to behave like a merely decent human being.

There are some griefs so loud/They could bring down the sky/And there are griefs so still/None knows how deep they lie.

A house that does not have one warm, comfy chair in it is soulless.

Flowers and plants are silent presences. They nourish every sense except the ear.

Poems like to have a destination for their flight. They are homing pigeons.

I think of the trees and how simply they let go, let fall the riches of a season, how without grief (it seems) they can let go and go deep into their roots for renewal and sleep.... Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.