The Only Thing that Makes Sense

 

The Only Thing That Makes Sense 

"The only thing that makes sense

is to hold it all tenderly— 

as if it can break, as if it won't be here forever,

as if the moment that is this moment 

will give you everything if you let it.

The only thing that makes sense is to celebrate 

the exactness of you, to take your own face 

in your own hands and declare yourself worthy, 

to wrap arms around the orphaned parts 

that didn't fit, didn't follow, refused to march in straight little lines.

The only thing that makes sense 

is to make art that is your art, art that swings, sways, 

tangos its way through every midnight, as if life, this very exact, 

disappearing life, depends on it. To scatter 

kindness-confetti until walls become wings, 

hard melts to soft, not-enough 

becomes a feast of fabulous plenty—

a wild, belly-laughing celebration

where every tender, breakable thing 

is invited, invited to the moment that is this

moment, the moment that will give you everything 

if you let it."

Julia Fehrenbacher

Thanks to my sis-in-law, Lee, for sending me this poem by Julia Fehrenbacher.  I was compelled to share it with you. 

Hold your moments tenderly!