(almost all my buttons at once)
This is a sweet and sad story from the New York Times, resonating on so many levels. “Poetry Kept My Patient Alive” by Ruth H. Livingston. I especially like this little snippet, written by her patient, “Steve” — and am glad to know “him” via its little rhymes.
A poet waits for the light
Waits for the night,
Waits for the night’s lights (the stars).
A poet waits for divine madness.