there was a different kind of light.
I remember other things, of course
but it is the only thing
I felt in that blinding way.
In the pain, I said,
What is the happiness?
I’ve never been so pure,
I said...
felt it to open up—
the agony—
like the flower
precarious on the counter.
- Doreen Gildroy
Image: Les Oeillets - Pierre Bonnard
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