
Books
whose worn pages have been turned from cover to cover
remain as old friends
hanging around in your mind and on your shelf
lingering in your home and in
your humanity
making you look good, even after their story has long ago unfolded.
In the easy silence that follows,
they know,
and
you do too,
what has transpired between the two of you
and what you have shared and where you have been together
and what happened there
and when,
and how it changed you
from that point on.
Tucked into nooks and crannies,
proliferating on tables and trays,
their colors
and upright
sentinel
wordy spines
call out to the curious
and ignite the memory
of we who once chose
to dive into
those papery leaves.
Adventurous yet inert
expansive but compact
persistent or occasional
fragile and robust
disposable but indespensible.
Lifegiving
is a life living
with books.
Yes! Our books speak to us! I love this poem, especially the rhythm you develop in the second half of the piece — “adventurous yet inert, expansive but compact…”. Your poem makes wants me to browse my own crowded bookshelves again!
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Thank you!
It’s a rabbit hole of the best sort, right?
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I think you wrote this from my heart. Completely agree with your last line that books are truly life giving.
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