Parent(hesis)
Let me tell you this - we are all messes: beautiful, beloved, with a trail of stars and troubles.
Our charmed cat has been fed, ungrateful as ever.
Sadly, I crushed a snail with my careless boot, but I
saved a bird I found floundering and shocked, nursed it, with awe and seed,
in a cardboard box. I hoped too; hoped hard that I wouldn’t have to wring its
neck, then explain to small souls why that was a kindness.
Dust betrays me, dancing in the sun. There is
always dust in this house. Always dust and always bits of paper with scribbled
dreams on them. Outside Venus hangs low and brittle. There are floorboards
creaking and shortly, you’ll join me, a tangle of limbs and hair and love and
eagerness. One day I’ll float back to mornings like this, a wistful ghost, hungry for a thought that says ‘See? You did good kid.
They were happy.’
Just an ordinary morning of toast and odd socks and shouting at dumb men on the radio intent on screwing it all up.
Did you really live in your life? That’s the
only question. Did you notice? Did you take the time to figure out that your choices are all you have? There's no God waiting on you. No pack of cards or arrangement of planets can help you choose or understand. It's just you, your head and heart and hands. Make something good.
In
time, unseen, the bird flew away. I imagine it found itself fixed; saw a chance
and took it, just like the rest of us.)
I particularly like your mention of dust. I'm busy busy at the moment and I've lost the time for dust watching in the sunlight, must try to squeeze it in again.
ReplyDelete