Grace

Danielle Riccardi

The rain plops
about faces, arms, hands

forage
into the boggy woods

for moss, skunk cabbage
to place in circle, to orient

each direction, in each other
a flower garden.

Plant your feet at the rim
of the garden mandala

as many voices uplift
wounds waiting for breath

when afternoon blends
into evening then exhales

into night. Stand on
the little porch

nape of the universe,
in the still, at the lip

of the earth goddess’ kiss,
the pond, starlit.

Stand there.

Amongst the trees
arching reflection,

pond droplets dripping
from your frame.

Stand there. Knowing
deeply you are alive.

---

Danielle Riccardi

Danielle Riccardi writes poetry as a guide to the inner landscape of an emotional life, wrestling with the human condition, and to keep the voices in her head at bay. She teaches physical education in New York City and practices yoga regularly.
Her poetic life began at thirteen years old using poetry to express what could not be said directly. She returned to poetry seriously in middle adult life, joining several writing workshops to hone her poetry craft. Working with more experienced poets who share their wisdom and support continues to be a blessing.
Her poetry appears in several magazines and journals including Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Last Leaves Magazine, Pure Slush Lifespan Series: Loss, MER, and is forthcoming in Literary Mama. Her favorite tree is a weeping willow located in Hudson, NY. She can be found occasionally on Instagram @poetryunderthewillowtree