I think today’s poem could probably stand some heavy revision, some deep digging. I also think I might try to write a second poem tonight.

Rachel’s Day 21 Poem: Letter to the First Boy I Loved
Someone Else’s Poem: again, I turn to Edna St. Vincent Millay and her “If I should learn”

Some other notes:

Jacob’s new bedroom features a chalkboard wall. Last night I left him a message (attributed to Whitman):

Today is Maundy Thursday. I love that word, “Maundy.” It’s so gloomy. When I was attending services regularly, the week leading up to Easter was always my favorite. The church I belonged to held a series of engaging and thoughtful services during Easter week, beginning with Maundy Thursday’s communion service. Good Friday was a somber service, more sad than a funeral, ending in darkness as the congregation listened to the sound of wind and a rock rolling over the tomb. Saturday’s service was a vigil, always a little anxious – on the verge of something spectacular. And Easter Sunday, of course, was a joyful explosion of color and noise and celebration.

I will probably need to write about this soon. “This” being my occasional nostalgia for the beauty of religious rituals, the complication of believing vs. not believing. And probably there’s more.