Trying to live joyfully, I notice my surroundings. Thinking through the line in watercolor, in yarn, in pic and screen capture, in glove and bulb planter. In poetry. How frequently I find myself turning to the Bible. Where, between sword of the Spirit and the lily, might I find balance, feeling, when wary, worn, in conflict with the seemingly interminable barrage from the computer, with anxiety, with my human need for interaction facing off entrenched systemic societal betrayal of our potential, connection, need, love? Consider. For me, an African American woman, honey, kiwi, pear, a walk through the garden provide a particular poetic lovely to think on: I notice. But I cannot consider without being aware why for many my meditation may feel inconsiderate. A fruit plate, a floral arrangement? Given our world, myriad threats? Walking alone through the botanical garden at the university where I work, I encounter, again, the line. A spectacular flower, a bright yellow firework raying from a coral ribbon, at center...a pencil? Really? Peering at the verb to bloom made new, beckoning—breathe here—in place defying every worry, I lean on my God, the word, my love for life. Joyfully inclined, I take in the imperative. Wear this.
—Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon, author of Purchase (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2024)
