The Thing Is

by Ellen Bass

(1947 - )

Here's a Steph add-in for the month of November: A very dear friend of mine shared this poem recently and made me realize how important it is to recognize our resilience as a humans, and as a society. It's not a light-hearted time; everyone is going through something. And the beginning of Winter, cresting into Holidays and deep, cold, darkness, can add to the heaviness. I suppose we'll take it for what it is, and as always, keep on going.

Alfred tells Bruce Wayne: "Why do we fall, Sir? So we can learn to pick ourselves back up." I think that's what Ellen Bass is getting at.

The Thing Is

to love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you’ve held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you down like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.

This month I'll hold my gratitude close, take deep breaths, and love life again.