raggle-taggle

a descent into the quotidian chaos of my life.

I gotta keep trying.

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Tammy Perlmutter: Chicago, Illinois; Weak and weary pilgrim stalking joy as if my life depended on it.

It’s here in all the pieces of my shame

that now I find myself again.

I yearn to belong to something, to be contained

in an all-embracing mind that sees me

as a single thing.

I yearn to be held

in the great hands of your heart—

oh, let them take me now.

Into them I place these fragments, my life,

And you, God—spend them however you want.

Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God, The Book of Pilgrimage, II, 2

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