Gently devastating poem from poet and friend Cassandra Warren:
Thankful I’m Not Blessed
I’m thankful for all the spewing demons behind the wheel of cars tonight because they are buying pies and visiting grandmas.29
(I’m thankful for my dying Saturn because I feel like a tiny God when I lift the hood and shoot a knowing grin at a few of the pieces now).
I’m thankful for spending five hours in the ER with my daughter last night because when she puts her hand through the bars of that bed I get to squeeze it.
I’m thankful for the old woman I met there, whose agonized moans made my Love lurch.
(I’m thankful for every hour I waited for the goofy, bespectacled doctor who made us laugh over Bruce Springsteen stories and Lidocaine).
I’m thankful for alcoholism because it is the filthy mat I fall on daily; and most times when I lift my face, I see God.
I’m thankful for every starving addict in the world because that hunger is a light house.
So, I’m thankful I’m not blessed.
I’m thankful for every horrible thing I’ve ever said or done because I can’t fix yesterday, only now.
I’m thankful for the devastation of divorce because our blackest voids are really cosmic bangs of creation.
I’m thankful for every profane word ever spoken because passion is the seed of Christ.
I’m thankful for every offensive word ever spoken because it is fuel to a fire that needs to burn.
I’m thankful for every photo I have never shared because I am no different than any one of you.
And I’m thankful for every man, woman, or child brutally alone tonight because on the shore of that darkness is a broken hearted Lover waiting with a warm wrap.
Here I am.
Find the original here.