Thursday, November 05, 2009

Autumn and what comes after

is the richest breeding ground
for life.
The gardener knows
this, piling loamy soil
thick with last year's harvest, over roots,
The soft scent of decay which underlies
the sweetness of the blossoms that will come;
The surgeon knows it too, at 3 am
lifting out the liver or the heart
from the body which outlasted life
for one at least, but which will surge again
with blood and gladness in some other chest,
another waiting, ribs splayed apart like hands
opening to receive the gift at once
both horrifying and magnificent,
and to close,
as hands and circles do.

-AG, Nov 2009

Wrote this, perhaps not so oddly, after talking to an acquaintance about her time on the transplant surgery rotation. The first few lines just came to me as I was walking home from school afterward, in the November dark with fallen leaves all around.

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