Not only gratitude for stories, but...
Lack of gratitude for my own existence combined with gratitude for the experiences I've experienced and observed, and for the existences of so many other people who are inextricably part of me, constitutes a lyric moment--lyric monument, even, as well as all the stories.
As I return, surprisingly rapidly, from deepened intertwining with anorexia to a clearer-headed, less klutzy, state, I wish that my haphazardly fixed scale weren't sending me crazy with implausible, potentially unhealthy, messages...but imagine if I were able to write a poem about that lyric pain!
Similarly, standing here, waving the white flag, being in an open space, not knowing what's to come next, I see a poem waving its flag, the staff of the flag being a pen, inviting.
