It’s Thanksgiving once again, and I’m feeling grateful. As is tradition on my blog, I’d like to share a poem that captures the spirit of the holiday. This year’s selection is “Good Bones” by Maggie Smith.
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
I’m so grateful for my wonderful community. As a small token of appreciation, I’m offering 15% off my personalized writing coaching packages for the next week. These packages provide the support and accountability you need to make real progress on your writing goals. I’ll be your guide, helping you overcome obstacles, providing feedback, and keeping you motivated. Learn more here.
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