playing the field | words from the week (v)

Poem by Nayyirah Waheed in her anthology, salt:

“in our own ways we all break. it is okay to hold your heart outside of your body for days. months. years. at a time.

– heal”

An extract from the East Folk newsletter:

“Our hands do a lot for us. More than any other body part, our hands work. They wash our bodies, hold our loved ones, build houses, cut vegetables, pick flowers, button shirts, take photos, write, caress, push, press, and touch. We use them to communicate. We wave them to say goodbye, put two fingers up for peace, and one for the opposite.”

Poem by Mary Oliver in her anthology, Felicity: (a lot of poetry was needed this week)

Nothing Is Too Small Not To Be Wondered About

“The cricket doesn’t wonder
if there’s a heaven
or, if there is, if there’s room for him.

It’s fall. Romance is over. Still, he sings.
If he can, he enters a house
through the tiniest crack under the door.
Then the house grows colder.

He sings slower and slower.
Then, nothing.

This must mean something, I don’t know what.
But certainly it doesn’t mean
he hasn’t been an excellent cricket
all his life.”