There Is A Word Or Several, Must Be

kspivack3-1Breathe these words in all languages before they’re lost, thank you and mean it. The things we take for granted and now have abandoned us. Or will. Water, air,
rich earth beneath the rubble, thank you for our daily breath. Give us this day. Exhale the little thank you words they’re quick, slip out our pores, clean hair.
A shower. Soap and aspirin. Thank you. Whoever “you” might be. Appreciation. A survival skill we never get to hone enough. Thank you. For life. For health,
for the newborn baby slipping out between the hips. For wondrous eyes and little rosebud fists, thank you, sweet pea. And jump ropes, patience, teachers of
the world, and teach me self-control. Migration, vanishing, the butterflies the orange peach of the oriole. Whatever bright eyed bird you once saw flicker
past, and wondered what was that? You were lucky to have it show itself. You are lucky perhaps to be it, plumage, proud breast and wings. Thank you for shelter, the blanket of morning.
Of this morning. When first frost found naked earth, or when you found that one shade tree in the desert of last summer. Sun like a knife-blade, now the reluctant release of pain, those precious
moments when it goes away. Do you still remember having such moments? There is a word or several, must be, in all the languages for saying, thank you in a world of swirl. Thank you for not yet abandoning me, my body. Wait a bit. Yes please.

–   Kathleen Spivack

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