boryrory - a small shrub.
a small shrub.

I cry a lot.

179 posts

Boryrory - A Small Shrub.

boryrory - a small shrub.
  • notassutis
    notassutis reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • gusthegrey
    gusthegrey reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • gusthegrey
    gusthegrey liked this · 8 months ago
  • lardeflor
    lardeflor reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • armkhjunior001
    armkhjunior001 reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • iiizx95
    iiizx95 liked this · 8 months ago
  • 7maress
    7maress liked this · 8 months ago
  • currentalien
    currentalien reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • stopthewhores
    stopthewhores reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • retro-rat
    retro-rat reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • dengesiz-blogsblog
    dengesiz-blogsblog reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • psychodynamiek
    psychodynamiek reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • mishaelar
    mishaelar reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • 7maress
    7maress reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • coolcalmcollector-blog
    coolcalmcollector-blog liked this · 8 months ago
  • spidersfrom-mars
    spidersfrom-mars liked this · 8 months ago
  • pussytightpussycleanpussyfrresh
    pussytightpussycleanpussyfrresh liked this · 8 months ago
  • ceilingfans-andd-idlehands
    ceilingfans-andd-idlehands liked this · 8 months ago
  • indigoandm0untains
    indigoandm0untains reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • nocturnal-grrrl
    nocturnal-grrrl reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • cien-cicatrices
    cien-cicatrices reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • myjaromir
    myjaromir liked this · 8 months ago
  • naviobobo
    naviobobo reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • littlebayking
    littlebayking liked this · 8 months ago
  • nocturnal-grrrl
    nocturnal-grrrl liked this · 8 months ago
  • raaara
    raaara reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • raaara
    raaara liked this · 8 months ago
  • justastheyplayoursong
    justastheyplayoursong reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • helewale
    helewale reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • helewale
    helewale liked this · 8 months ago
  • jesusismyhostage
    jesusismyhostage reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • simonflow
    simonflow liked this · 8 months ago
  • spidergoatduex
    spidergoatduex reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • spidergoatduex
    spidergoatduex liked this · 8 months ago
  • hax89
    hax89 liked this · 8 months ago
  • a20z
    a20z liked this · 8 months ago
  • nofy
    nofy reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • trustandsurrender
    trustandsurrender reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • poppin-peace
    poppin-peace liked this · 8 months ago
  • nonchalantviews
    nonchalantviews liked this · 8 months ago
  • maintainthamystery
    maintainthamystery reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • not-y0ur-babe
    not-y0ur-babe reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • lovemeorlovemycloset
    lovemeorlovemycloset liked this · 8 months ago
  • cosmikdebriss
    cosmikdebriss liked this · 8 months ago
  • 1-800-astrophel
    1-800-astrophel reblogged this · 8 months ago
  • sentimentalpossession
    sentimentalpossession liked this · 8 months ago

More Posts from Boryrory

2 years ago
Home Sweet Home

home sweet home

2 years ago
boryrory - a small shrub.

šŸ“šŸ¹šŸŒæ

2 years ago

ā€œI really do sincerely feel that bewilderment is at the core of every great poem, and in order to be bewildered, you have to be able to wonder. You absolutely have to be permeable to wonder. Maintaining an orientation towards wonder in a time where the government is conspiring against it, in a time where black people are being murdered at the hands of the state, in a time when the Earth is very much trying to warn us about what we’re doing to it, maintaining an orientation towards wonder becomes really difficult. It’s the work that I have to do every day, the work of trying to find sources of wonder, even in our sadness and loneliness, or even in our anger.ā€

— Kaveh Akbar for LitHub [x]

2 years ago
Praise the woman who took me in her arms & / wouldn’t let go of me. We sank to the floor / in the middle of the aisle in Rite Aid. / It was a late morning & I walked slowly, / furious that spring could still be so wonderful. / Magnolia tempted me to forget about my mother / for a few minutes. I stared at a Brooklyn blue sky / through branches clasping pear blossoms. / The limbs shook in sunlight. My eyes adjusted / when I went into the pharmacy & realized / everywhere I looked the world announced / it would soon be Mother’s Day. Something / ripped itself out of me. A howl so wide / I thought I would burst. The woman near the counter / understood right away the way my mother / once understood I had been born in a specific sadness. / The woman did not say she was a mother but I knew it. / She put her arms around me & waved away the cashiers, / the security guard who repeated Ma’am, Ma’am? / A stranger rocked me in her arms, so much kindness / as we fell over & crashed against a row of votive candles. / She didn’t say it would be okay. She didn’t ask me / what was wrong. But her arms put me in a vicious prayer. / I almost bit her, almost pushed her away. / We held on. We held on & praised the nameless thing / that makes us what we think we aren’t strong enough / to know. She knew. She didn’t let go of me.
Praise the woman who didn’t wipe my snot from her shirt, / my tears from her collarbone, who did not tell me to / pull myself together while everything inside me dropped. / Crushed bones. Blossoms pushing through my mouth— / a word: Mom Mom Mom. This broken birdsong of mine / with no bird, no wing, no way to fly back through time. / Praise the woman who did not leave me / like something suddenly dead on the sidewalk / with a breeze blowing over its face. / Praise the woman who smelled like fabric softener / & coffee & the good things I must believe I am too. / Praise the mothers who walk slowly through the world, / bringing children into themselves, burying children sometimes / before themselves, & who defend something harder / than innocence. Praise the guts & grace of mothers. / Praise their exhaustion & their good work. Praise their wit, / their wonderful ways of listening to the world fall / asleep against its clean pillow. For the woman / who knelt with me in an ugly heap in the middle of / Rite Aid on an unbearable spring day, / who helped me buy a Mother’s Day card / for my dead mother, who knew better than to say /I’d be just fine, for you I lift my arms each spring / & wish you a kindness so fantastic I sometimes feel / I’m in midair, the shadow of my wings clapping in joy / above your children who must love you.

Rachel Eliza Griffiths, ā€œGood Motherā€