the grand and damaging parade
a life should leave
deep tracks:
ruts where she
went out and back
to get the mail
or move the hose
around the yard;
where she used to
stand before the sink,
a worn-out place;
beneath her hand
the china knobs
rubbed down to
white pastilles;
the switch she
used to feel for
in the dark
almost erased.
her things should
keep her marks.
the passage
of a life should show;
it should abrade.
And when life stops,
a certain space--
however small--
should be left scarred
by the grand and damaging parade.
Things shouldn't
be so hard.
Things Shouldn't Be So Hard
by Kay Ryan