POEM: A LIFETIME

 A Lifetime

I have you first to last.

From first, when the stream’s waters

anoint your naked feet.

From the smooth stones

beneath the water’s flow

that soothe their aches,

and by the water,

with but the slightest chill,

that plays about your limbs and body
like laughing children.

From that moment of one into two,

and one again.

And later, by the lines,
the strong lines that bind and hold,

and keep us from that elsewhere place

of time and space and motion—

from the turning of the world

and the spilling of salt,

from the ragged tearing of cloth,

and tears that wet the stone.

I WROTE THIS THE OTHER DAY. I had been thinking of an image of a brook or stream, soft water flowing over smooth stones, shaded by trees with a warm summer breeze blowing. Ah! An ideal setting for an idyll, indeed! I did a doodle of a stream and thought I would write a poem with that setting in mind. I don’t think I write brilliant poetry or anything, but if any of my stuff touches a chord with someone, well, it may not be the full orchestra, but it’s music to my ears at least. So here it is—raw/complete, good/bad, meaningful/meaningless, empty/full, thoughtful/cliché…  Hmmm. Lots of binaries here—what about a third way, or a fourth? Surely there’s more to life than just opposites, of just one way or the highway? Well, I’ll let it sit for a bit and if I decide to edit it or to add more of my scintillating commentary, I will use strike-outs and highlighting to show you any changes to the text. But the doodle stays, man!
Cheers, Jake.