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Grace Cavalieri



It wasn’t so much that you were hurt

–and who among us is not hurt–

It’s more that you had no one to tell,

I’m listening and

If loneliness still fits, wear it, let it cling,

If not, discard that jacket

And let me hold its warmth inside

Along with your forgotten treasures.


The muse chases all we love,

Didn’t you know

It’s a fountain of light

Where you burrow like a spy

Yet is always where we know you best.


Someday we’ll find what was never seen,

—–not by the book left open

—or the candle burned

— the bell rung

But some song between us

Where people construct memories

Before the dream is done.


So sit with me

While bread and tea are warm

For what would be the wonder

If we didn’t touch at all–

There would be no stars allowed

And didn’t I tell you, Hope is itself a star.





I said I’d always wanted to be at the water’s edge

when dawn first lit the pink lake

so I could do Tai Chi in adagio

and chant with the world when birds were first waking

where grass would be wet with air between day and night

and there was this man I spoke to who set the alarm for 4 30 AM

not just to placate but to please

and hastened to fill the thermos with tea

and drove with me to witness the breath of beginning

while light was paused before fully lifting

and I’d always wanted to be at the water’s edge

and I remember there was plenty of honey in the tea

and we witnessed the unfolding bouquet

a morning without velocity or dynamics or anything grand

and that was one of the good times.

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