Salt
Kathryn Jordan
1.
I want to know why
the deer go every day
down to the sea, where
the surf scoter makes
her living bobbing
in the waves. For her,
salt is not suffering.
Fawns leaping ahead,
the mother doe turns
back to face the strand,
as if longing to retrace
her heart-shaped tracks
in soft ocean sand before
going home to trees.
2.
I'm at the end
of the road of trying
to understand everything--
like how my body
suddenly took sick,
got old so fast and how
come I can't make love
now, can't even weep.
The pastor says longing
for God surely confirms
God's presence within us.
What if my heart's desire
to love you is, at heart,
evidence of love itself?
About the Author
Winner of the San Miguel de Allende Writers Conference Prize for Poetry, Kathryn Jordan’s other honors include Pushcart Prize nominations, finalist positions in the Steve Kowit, Atlanta Review, Muriel Craft Bailey, Connecticut Poetry, and Patricia Dobler poetry contests. Her poems are published in The Sun, Atlanta Review, and New Ohio Review, among others. She loves to hike the trails, listening for birdsong to transcribe into poetry.