What Came to Me
What Came to Me I took the last dusty piece of china out of the barrel. It was your gravy boat, with a hard, brown drop of gravy still on the porcelain lip. I grieved for you then as I never had before. -Jane Kenyon The photo is of me as a young girl sitting on my father’s shoulder. I have shared some of my journey with him here before — his layers of addiction, his inability to offer unconditional love, his narrowness of vision. This is a part of my inheritance that I continue to name and own. His grief and despair