Abecedarian for the Friend with Chronic Soul Injury by Agnieszka Tworek

Abecedarian for the Friend with Chronic Soul Injury

Although albatrosses’ wings are covered with soot and oil,
Bears wheeze dreaming of bulletproof bones,
Castaways crave the freedom of clouds,
Dreams you raised have been plucked,
Extricate yourself from fear’s arms.
Forgive yourself for wrong turns and falls.
Grow gardenias, zinnias, and geraniums.
Hide the hints of light in an unbreakable vault.
Ice the bruised areas on the feverish earth.
Jot down the lark’s morning song on your palm.
Kick back a ball to a lonely kid in the park.
Listen to waves while lighthouses beckon toward the lost boats.
Make marionettes out of magnolia leaves and linen threads.
Name all the trees on your daily walks.
Orient yourself toward the sun even when it’s camouflaged by gray.
Praise the tenacity of perennial plants.
Quiet the quivering poplar’s twigs with your touch.
Remember your way home even when your home is no longer there.
Serenade your worries to sleep.
Try to learn a poem by heart each month.
Unlock the cage with your past and release it into the wild.
Visit headstones forgotten in the tall grass.
Wave to a woman sitting in front of her house.
X-ray humanity and strive to heal its heart.
Yield the way to bees because they came here first.
Zoom in on hope despite, despite, despite…

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Agnieszka Tworek was born in Lublin, Poland. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Southern Review, Poetry Northwest, Rattle (Poets Respond), The Shore, Third Wednesday, Mobius, Lake Effect, The Indianapolis Review, and in other journals.