I Wrote This . . .


Suspended firmly between before beginning and
after end I sway gently between what was, what is, and
what might have been.

What might have been -
calling me back to centuries gone by,
to dusty memories and personalities peeking out from
dead documents and books on shelves, whispering
you were here, you belong to us.

What was -
running through years in exclamation points!
always marching to the different drummer, out of step,
rebel, black sheep.
Marriage! Seven painful; joyful labors!
Incest! Divorce!
therapy
seven black sheep spirits looking for a parent
800 pounds of potatoes in one year
spaghetti on the ceiling
table on the floor making bread.
And more joy
called “The Rejects from Sesame Street Basketball Team” when all seven are together;
Five Amazonian Women putting shoulders together to erase scars to our home.
Missions: Korea, Brazil, Mexico, Germany, New York.
Dr. Amy has cancer
Business BS: Penny marries an Alaskan
Aaron computer nerd, marries a Mexican who won’t speak English, or
says she can’t learn.
Unspeakable closeness to the next generation!
and

What is -
a tree trunk, scarred, damaged, but thriving - roots planted deep,
allowing branches to grow, sway, bend and feel the nurturing of the whole.

to the world, Invisible, content neutral, so after contact they can say
“I did it myself!”

Brain craving new learning, heart yearning for serving,
emotion sealed deep within, hidden!
only leaking forth at times of measured exuberance:
joy in another’s epiphany, vicarious fulfillment.

Empty waiting to be filled, filled waiting to be emptied.
Waiting -
for the after end
and home.

God Bless us Everyone!