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 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.
by Ellen Bass
from Mules of Love (BOA Editions, 2002)
Bio: Ellen Bass’s poetry books include The Human Line (Copper Canyon Press, 2007) and Mules of Love (BOA Editions, 2002). She’s also co-author of The Courage to Heal and Free Your Mind.
She teaches in Pacific University’s MFA program and at conferences and workshops around the country. www.ellenbass.com
