"Grace is Reality"

sometimes I feel neverending

sometimes I feel very small


today was a small day.


the little piece of paper

on the end of the tea bag

read me a poem

to make me feel better.


she sang, ‘grace is reality’

and I asked, ‘what is poetry anyway’

and she continued to sing ‘grace is reality’

because that is her eternity of knowledge.


I wondered if she existed in anyone else’s universe

and if another person thought to themselves,

‘hey, that’s a good one’

before tossing her in the trash.


a muffled cry from the garbage can

rings in my ears

and bounces from wall to wall

‘poetry is not just writing a feeling

it’s the act of feeling.’


whatever that means.

This poem is about: 


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