Kelli Russell Agodon

Praise

Find me wild about stir-fry, about red velvet
sofas and the people who sleep inside books
and dream about commas. We are flooded
with forgetfulness, with fallen plum blossoms
misspelling our names on the driveway. Praise
our too many expectations, how we overestimate
the weather, each other, overestimate how deer
will appear if we arrive with food. Because reality
can be a knife, we sometimes ache to tear open
the tea bag, the ketchup packet, because wine
arrives ready to be poured, we are foolish
and happy—though our clothes do not fit,
we return to being alive and living
between roadblocks and detours, driving
our fingers into the edge of each other’s
pockets. Praise the bare trees that tried
to spell our names for their belief
they could—spells and misspellings,
fail and fail better, how lucky we are
just to be here, both of us touching each other
through these words, with all this exasperating joy.

Invitation for Writing and Reflection: This poem reminds me of Wendell Berry’s famous line: “Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts. What are some of the sources of joy and simple things in your life that you could praise right now? You might begin by writing the word “Praise,” over and over and filling in the rest, or use the poem’s first words, “Find me wild about . . . “ to get yourself started.