I should say that I am often someone who does not read poetry. That I don't stop, listen, or hear. (And even when I do stop, I don't often listen. And even when I stop and listen, I don't often hear). I find it very hard to stop and to listen and to hear. I see this as a cause of a lot of the stress in my life. Or maybe I should say, This adds to the stress in my life. I forget who I am. Or become uncertain. I look for answers in the wrong places. I get rattled and rattle others. I snap and tear. Sometimes.
Sundays are always the hardest day of the week for me. This has been true for a long time. I am not sure why. My going to church rituals somehow contribute to the feeling that the rest of the week is hurtling towards me. All of which is to say that it is hard to have a day of rest - to stop and listen and hear. It is hard to ask for help. This has been a good Sunday for the most part. Church. Good conversations. A long lunch with friends. More good conversations. Not much stopping, listening or hearing outside of these but grace in all of them. Not sure that this post is going anywhere else right now. I feel the rest of the week, work, pressing in. But I also feel okay. Aware. Even if I am not ready.
It's national poetry month. I just found this out. Here we all are.