As long as I struggle to float above the ground
and fail, there is reason for this poetry. . . .

                                     See me rise like a flame,
like the sun, moon, stars, birds, wind. In light,
In dark. But I never achieve it. I get on my knees
this gray April to see if open crocuses have a smell.
I must live in the suffering and desire of what
rises and falls. The terrible blind grinding
of gears against our bodies and lives.

-- Linda Gregg, from "It is the Rising I Love", The Sacraments of Desire: Poems

Read "It Is the Rising I Love" on Slow Muse

Linda Gregg