Friday, April 21, 2017

when your hands fail you

If you do not bake because there aren't enough in your house to eat it before it goes stale,
and your finger joints, fragile wrists, prevent you from knitting,
and there is no maple sap in your garden's trees, no wild honey from the occassional bee, no lavishment of vegetables,
and if you are achingly far from the scratch of farm grass, or the mist of a shy morning drifting over hills,



and if your shabby never quite looks chic,
and there's not a china tea set to be found for love or money in the whole country,  
and dairy intolerance prevents you from enjoying hot chocolate & devonshire teas, 
but you can not abide the taste of chai, 




if you'll never get to Paris, or travel the rivers wild,
and your fertility ran out before your perfect family size did,
or you failed the intake to be a fireman, lawyer, actor, priest,
and all your indoor pot plants die,
although you tried, 
 



and if your camera won't open to enough light,
your watercolours are kindergarten quality, your blog template amateur
and you can't create the magic of poetry although you love to write,
and if all your paths are paved, the sea miles away, the peace broken by suburban sound,



friend, you are still enough.  

~ ~ ~



paintings by my favourite artist, Jessie M King

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