March 4, 2016

Thirst. {Poem}

via author, photo credit: Ricky Mitchell (not for re-use)

If I’m very quiet, I can hear the sound of traffic outside my window.

It’s early in the afternoon so traffic is light at this time of day. Other than the hum of my computer, I just hear the steady sound of my own typing.

Days like today are good days—“business as usual” types of days where nothing goes wrong but nothing much marks this day from that one other than the weather. Sometimes on the most ordinary days I feel the most extraordinary longing. I love gray days when the clouds are thick and low, and the wind rustles through the trees.

I always feel slightly on edge though, as if waiting for some great change. I’m not sure today what the longing is for: a long nap, a quiet moment to read a chapter of a book, arms to wrap around me, or a long walk before the rain comes in. Sometimes that’s all I want: a simple comfort to remind me to cherish the moment I’m in.

On other days, I want to be outside, running with abandon through the rain.

So much of the time I’m not able to take the quiet moment or the splash in the rain because I’m expected to work and take care of children and generally do the things that make up my daily life. On days where there is no opportunity to feed even a little of my desire, all I’m left with is the ache of that longing.

It’s a thirst that’s never quite quenched, but it’s one that I’m grateful exists, since without it, I might forget to truly cherish all of the small, simple moments along the way.





I’ve seen the rain
On cool gray days
From windows with thick panes
The children jump
In puddles deep
The water rushes down the lane
I press my hands
Against the panes
I’m thirsty to my core
But I am told
My puddle days
Are gone forevermore


Author: Crystal Jackson

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Ricky Mitchell, used with permission.

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