I found myself reading this poem over and over, drawn to it, but not quite at ease with it, and wondering especially about the last line. I hope that some of you will comment on it…I’d like some partners in coming to terms with this poem. Note too the title of the whole collection–the middle distance–is that in any way a reflection of the whole of the poem…hmmm.
I work hard at managing, grateful
and spare. I try to forgive all trespasses
and give thanks for the desert. Rejoice
in being alive here in my simple world.
Each evening I walk for an hour, paying
attention to real things. The plover
sweeping at my face to get me away from
its ground nest. An ant carrying the wing
of a butterfly like a flag in the wind.
A grasshopper eating a dead grasshopper.
The antelope close up, just staring at me.
Back in the house, I lie down in the heat
for a nap, realizing forgiveness is hard
for the wounded. Near the border,
between this country and the next one.
“Surviving Love” by Linda Gregg from In the Middle Distance. © Graywolf Press, 2006.