For Those Who Keep Trying

“to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.”

Ellen Bass

I paired these because the line 'crumples like burnt paper' reminded me of the skin on the garlic. (1) Not the first time I've been late to work trying to capture the afternoon light on the windowsill (poem) via my friend michelle at since feeling is first. She finds the best poems (p.s.) an andy warhol artifact for the resilient ones