Sunday, January 23, 2011

One, Maybe Two

I was not moved
by the courage of an ancient priest,
or the piety of an old acquaintance.

I was not moved
by a few well-spaced stars
in the galaxy of lacquered pews.

I was not moved
by a wedding gown,
jutting from the mouth of an empty tomb.

I was not even moved
by memories of my dancing parents
or visions of my birthday girl as a newborn.

I was only moved - carried from
the new home to the old home,
early one wet spring morning,
- by guilt and fear.

I was alarmed
and beside myself with dismay,
that one, maybe two
people might be mad at me,

because I did the right thing
incorrectly, or indiscreetly –
because I was unable to intuit
what I should have been told.

Ashamed and convinced,
after all this time,
that one, maybe two
people could cease to love me,

because there is no excuse
for a lack of omniscience –

because there is no coming back
from a fit of candor.


Anonymous said...

You do an admirable job. Make sure you stay crafting articles. Thanks

Anonymous said...

Anonymous said...