Sunday Poetry: Dust

I used to share my favourites from my journals full of stashed poetry regularly and somewhere in the chaos, words got away from me. So this afternoon I am bringing them back – Sunday Poetry, a sometimes ritual of sharing words that resonate with me, in case they resonate with you too.

Dust by Dorienne Laux

Someone spoke to me last night,

told me the truth. Just a few words,

but I recognized it.

I knew I should make myself get up,

write it down, but it was late,

and I was exhausted from working

all day in the garden, moving rocks.

Now, I remember only the flavor —

not like food, sweet or sharp.

More like a fine powder, like dust.

And I wasn’t elated or frightened,

but simply rapt, aware.

That’s how it is sometimes —

God comes to your window,

all bright light and black wings,

and you’re just too tired to open it.

Dust by Dorianne Laux from What We Carry (aff).

Copyright © 1994 by Dorianne Laux.