{"id":13805,"date":"2015-06-14T06:52:49","date_gmt":"2015-06-14T10:52:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=13805"},"modified":"2015-06-14T06:52:49","modified_gmt":"2015-06-14T10:52:49","slug":"holiday","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2015\/06\/holiday\/","title":{"rendered":"Holiday"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>We only want a beach with white sand,<\/p>\n<p>something we can sift through with our fingers<\/p>\n<p>the way sunlight filters through the trees.<\/p>\n<p>But something else will be at work here as we,<\/p>\n<p>too, pass through the warm days like waves<\/p>\n<p>weighing nothing.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Perhaps it is the water that will pass through,<\/p>\n<p>clinging to our bodies, seeking to fill us with<\/p>\n<p>what we&#8217;ve lost, that fundamentality city life<\/p>\n<p>has robbed us of, clothing us with its own<\/p>\n<p>brand of affection, embracing us, reminding us<\/p>\n<p>to return to what is less.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>We will live again in a hut, waking with the sun,<\/p>\n<p>forgetting for a while the rush of all that we are<\/p>\n<p>not, the dark office walls, the callous desks and<\/p>\n<p>chairs, the indifferent floor, the department<\/p>\n<p>voices, the hands holding phones and tools, the<\/p>\n<p>feet encased in steel boots.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Near the beach, we will eat each day, closer to<\/p>\n<p>the earth, closer to the water and the sky, necks<\/p>\n<p>not needing to strain, fingers to grasp, eyes to<\/p>\n<p>pierce.\u00a0 We will speak gently again, genuinely,<\/p>\n<p>meaning even every word we do not say, giving<\/p>\n<p>more room to own time.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>\u00a9\u00a0 Ella Wagemakers, 12.55 Dutch time (= \u00a06.55 EST in the US)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>We only want a beach with white sand, something we can sift through with our fingers the way sunlight filters through the trees. But something else will be at work here as we, too, pass through the warm days like waves weighing nothing. &nbsp; Perhaps&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":262,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13805","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13805","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/262"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13805"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13805\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13807,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13805\/revisions\/13807"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13805"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13805"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13805"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}