Thursday, September 09, 2010
The sill is angry.
The hope that I will stand up and fly through the pane has been with us both for years.
Today, my window sill capitulated, recognizing in me failure.
I can't say I'm surprised. What is stirring is the loyalty.
The way still my sill holds up the books and thick candles, my buttons in a mason jar, all the small favorites.
How the sill continues in the face of me: this is something I can choose to consider heroic.
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