-
Lean Into It
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
56 Lean Into It Start again. Don’t struggle. What you wanted, to eliminate each shriven or wasted motion, will happen anyway. You hardly need to tilt your head. Concerning songbirds, sunlight retreating, don’t do a thing. You can’t. Just focus eyes, narrowly for now— perhaps on a leaf of grass. Anything could key a beginning, a sexy purring of fingertips across dry palm, an aperitif in the house’s last unbroken flute— anything will do it. You are a cold oyster locked in saltwater. You are the muscled ball of a peony, hard with compact potential. Look up now. There’s the whole picture. Let the oxygen of this valley open you—it will anyway—begin eroding that dark glacier you woke with. The first splintered release, the first splash, then the first raft of ice, dwindling already but moving forward, too. Sure. Just look at you go, not even trying to steer. Bon voyage. ...