Poetry can do that, if it's the right poem (by Cate Peebles) at the right moment of chaos in my day
Read it and weep
Maybe it's because I window shopped at a couple of little odd-shops on Lakeside Ave today (across the street from Consignment Corner, where we also shopped).
There's something about the sight of objects someone doesn't need anymore that makes me happy - they are relieving themselves of the burden of "things".
but what if they have died or lost everything because of difficult circumstances?
Conflict. That's what makes poets. Conflicts. That's what makes poems.