I have always loved poetry, more writing than reading. Reading made me feel pressure to feel something specific, and it was already hard enough to feel something besides numb. One day, I read Mark Strand’s “Keeping Things Whole” and, for me, something clicked. I don’t know what, though. I still don’t know what I feel, but I know I feel something besides numb when I read this.
Maybe I move through moments, mindfully, in order to keep whole the part of me that isn’t affected by anxiety. Too long in a moment and I risk losing that grounded piece, too.
Keeping Things WholeIn a fieldI am the absenceof field.This isalways the case.Wherever I amI am what is missing.When I walkI part the airand alwaysthe air moves into fill the spaceswhere my body’s been.We all have reasonsfor moving.I moveto keep things whole.