Quote

Yesterday i carved your name into the surface of an ice cube then held it against my chest til it melted into my aching pores today i cried so hard the neighbors knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to borrow some sugar.

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Hard
Surface
Chest
Cube
Door
Chests
Melted
Asked
Cried
Cubes
Doors
Ice
Aching
Name
Sugar
Carved
Names
Neighbor
Borrow
Today
Held
Knocked
Wanted
Yesterday
Neighbors
Pores

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You have a heart of gold and I am kneeling in your bloodstream panning for the only thing that has ever felt like home.
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Sometimes the most healing thing to do is remind ourselves over and over and over, other people feel this too.
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Remember, you didn’t come here to write your heart out. You came to write it in.
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This is my body. It is no one's but mine.
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and I wonder if Beethoven held his breath the first time his fingers touched the keys the same way a soldier holds his breath the first time his finger clicks the trigger. We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.
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I don't have a single plan for my life more important than learning to love people well.
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The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.
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We all have bullets beneath our skin we pray our lovers won't flinch at when they find.
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I have never met a heavy heart that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside Some people will never understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside Some days I know my smile looks like the gutter of a falling house But my hands are always holding tight to the ripchord of believing
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We were all born on days when too many people died in terrible ways, but you still have to call it a birthday.
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I'm good at loving books. I'm good at loving soft bed sheets. I'm good at loving coffees and teas. I am good at loving things that can't love me back, that don't have the power to leave. And maybe, that's why I love them.
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I’ve written this poem before but always through a window, never through an open door.
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And we were Banksy on an overpass in New Orleans spray-painting porch lights on the hurricane. We were welcome mats for the un-forgiven. We never sold our windpipes to make a living. We were the letters sent to the wrong address, but opened anyway. We opened anyway.
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The holy have done more damage to this world than the devil ever could.
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Touch me 'til my ribs become piano keys.
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Fear is only a verb if you let it be. Don't you dare let go of my hand!
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Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.
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Sometimes the break in your heart is like the hole in the flute. Sometimes it’s the place where the music comes through.
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I write because it is while I'm writing that I feel most connected to why we're here. I write because silence is a heavy weight to carry. I write to remember. I write to heal. I write to let the air in. I write as a practice of listening.
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I have always been comfortable weathering the storm. I’d like to get more comfortable weathering the sunny day.
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