Count then your blessings, hold in mind
All that has loved you or been kind…
Gather the bits of road that were
Not gravel to the traveller
But eternal lanes of joy
On which no man who walks can die.
– From Patrick Kavanagh, Prelude
I Do Not Know
I do not know which of us has written this page.
– Jorge Luis Borges
The First Lie
I’m the little toy you’ll shatter,
the garden with miraculous
hiding places. You dart in and out
just to be half-found.
I’m the wind that sings in Braille,
your own shadow getting longer,
the beautiful holes that whimper
in your brain.
– Jo Shapcott
Buried
Never
We’re Open
Every Time
The street was white again,
all the bushes covered with heavy snow
and the trees glittering, encased in ice.
I lay in the dark, waiting for the night to end.
It seemed the longest night I had ever known,
longer than the night I was born
I write about you all the time, I said aloud.
Every time I say “I,” it refers to you.
– Louise Glück, from Visitors Abroad
memoryhouse 