Yellow
Photo by Kat Smith: https://www.pexels.com/photo/micro-photo-of-yellow-flower-548391/
When I saw this poem by Anne Sexton, I thought, that’s exactly what I’m doing these days: waiting for them to turn the sun on again. For the beginning of warmer weather and the end of this last semester of nursing school. For days when I can walk outside without hunkering down to protect myself against bone-chilling wind. For weekends digging in the garden instead of plowing through textbooks. For a more rested body and a lighter spirit.
They tell us this is no way to live; that it’s best to embrace the present moment instead of daydreaming about the future. But is that always true? Can the hope for a sunnier tomorrow not sometimes be just the thing we need to endure the hardships of today?
Yellow
by Anne Sexton
When they turn the sun
on again I'll plant children
under it, I'll light up my soul
with a match and let it sing. I'll
take my bones and polish them, I'll
vacuum up my stale hair, I'll
pay all my neighbors' bad debts, I'll
write a poem called Yellow and put
my lips down to drink it up, I'll
feed myself spoonfuls of heat and
everyone will be home playing with
their wings and the planet will
shudder with all those smiles and
there will be no poison anywhere, no plague
in the sky and there will be a mother-broth
for all of the people and we will
never die, not one of us, we'll go on
won't we?
