Remember the fluctuating sea,
morning on the beach, the sun’s
orange disk, like a porthole into divine fire.
Remember the seals, one then another,
bobbing up, as if to play, or say hello.
Remember the swim, the sharp rock,
the gash on your leg, remember
the bee sting reddening your ear,
the itch and swelling, with something
to tell the wandering mind.
Remember the hard walk, the cobblestones,
the steps on the path, remember
the church services, the vespers,
the nuns blessing your knee.
Remember the time—not long ago—
a day closed you into an ambulance,
your heart beating too fast to bear, remember
being lifted up in the air, waving goodbye,
calling out: Tell the children please.
Remember the peace in returning to dogs,
to house, to your wife Clara lit within,
remember swimming in the pond again,
in a body made new by gratitude.
link to video
Laura Foley’s most recent collection is: It’s This (Fernwood Press, 2023). Her poems have won many awards and appeared in many journals such as Alaska Quarterly, Valparaiso, Poetry Society London, Atlanta Review, and included in anthologies such as: Poetry of Presence: An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems, and How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope. Laura’s poems have been turned into choral music and performed in venues such as the Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles and Carnegie Hall in New York. She lives with her wife, Clara Giménez, and their two romping canines, among the hills of Vermont.
