Photo by ian dooley on Unsplash

Those who would in private bury us
with their solemn observations,

who would write us off sooner than
look into our eyes

do not know the happy grace
of our ignorance: how it lifts us
past their grave faces

back into our own
irreducible lives.

This little poem was a finalist for IthacaLit’s 2015 Difficult Fruit Poetry Prize and was published there April, 2016.

8 thoughts on “Lifted

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