My Species

On By NW FilbertIn human, love, Patience, Poetry

even

a small purple artichoke

boiled

in its own bittered

and darkening

waters

grows tender,

grows tender and sweet

.

patience, I think,

my species

.

keep testing the spiny leaves

.

the spiny heart

– Jane Hirshfield

Hirshfield - Beauty

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One thought on “My Species”

"A word is a bridge thrown between myself and an other - a territory shared by both" - M. Bakhtin

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