restoration’s such a heavy weight

Like a poplar in the winter I’ve been showingJust exactly where my branches reach their endsLike a pillar in the basement I’ve been holdingOnto her and holding strong to where we’ve been Like a tiny wooden figure on the counterI’ve been feeling awful powerless and smallBut the old grandfather clock’s still counting hoursToward the day…

go back, go back to the ancient paths

I was young a year agoWhen last among these cedar treesI walked the white and lonely paths.Today, the bright blue Huron breezeSings to me a sharp “although” —Though you were young a year agoThese paths find you yet young. A year ago on ancient rocksI stood and cursed, by bitter fearEnraged against the will of…

year one.

I'm writing this from a makeshift desk set up under my loft bed, surrounded by the chaos of a mostly-unpacked and partially-organized life. I didn't know I had so much stuff until it was all laid out on the floor of my room. It's a little terrifying. But anyway. I am home -- or, well,…

a sonnet to Philosophy

I wrote this to the character of Philosophy in Boethius' Consolation, as part of an assignment for a class; if you've read that book you'll likely understand this poem better. If you haven't, then just know that Philosophy is trying to explain things like predestination, free will, the true good, the best way to live,…

the bookworm tag

Hello friends! I'm back (momentarily) with the happy update that both essays I referenced in my last post went well (presumably -- neither have been graded yet), I am officially a classics major now, and I have been tagged by Sarah to do this tag! Hurrah (: • What author has your favorite prose to…

ποίημα

ποίημα: poeima, Greek. anything made or done; hence, a work, invention, deed, or act; a poem. I am his poetryI will not hang my headFor I am his handmade calligraphyI am his masterpieceSo I will not hang my headHis banner is over me ♢♢♢ Lord, when you created meYou decreed that I should beA stanza…

a sonnet

I'm writing this on the 27th of December, but scheduling it for later because I'd like to give you all some time to read each post without like ten of them in your inbox at once. That being said, I have so many ideas for blog posts, so watch out. This is a sonnet I…

Aeneid 2.348-360

young men,your hearts are valiantin vain. if you desire to follow meas I dare to stare down certain death,you must know the inevitable endof this endeavor. all the gods have left us. their sanctuaries and altars stand empty,the holy places of the godsby whose power this realm once stoodare abandoned.you run to aid a city…

borrowed grief

borrowed griefisa strange weight,a curious burden:something that is not yoursand yetyou bear it anyway.does it help those to whom it belongs?perhaps not.no,it only brings you needless sorrow.but this is a sorrow you have chosen. this borrowed griefis a strange and discordant emotion,a reminder of the reality of death.it is not mine, and yetI have chosen…

goodbyes

I. the way you smiled when youtold me that funny story andall our laughing hours these small thingsmade me feel(almost)lovable, like perhaps i am not broken afterall —  your laughter, your friendshipwhat a precious gift they wereand what a sad permanent thing thepasttense can be. someday we will be together again,this side of eternity orthe next andthen…