Simply Being | Simple Being

Category: Poetry (page 4 of 6)

No Trace

You land a new job, move into a new life,
Set up shop, bring your things in (a few or many),
Meet the neighbors, make new connections, strike up conversation.

Go out for coffee, set up introductory lunches… create a new life in here.

And so it continues on, through vacations and holiday parties and babies and advancing grays and deaths, and so on.

Then one day, it’s time to move on. “So quick? I am sorry, yes. There is no requirement any more. Here is a box.”

And thus it ends.

Pack all that you have gathered into a cardboard box
No time to linger or dawdle, certainly no time for farewells and goodbyes.

Get out quick, and the waters close over your head… as if you never existed.

The coffees and conversations begin to vanish into distant memory, irrelevance, obscurity.

Characters lose definition, quirks and edges.

And that’s really all a life within a life is worth, a person in an organization amounts to.

“And the friendships and connections and shared memories and good work and inside jokes and… what of it all?”

“Nothing, really.”

A matter of happenstance and shared time, so collect your winnings and move on.

Leave no trace behind.

A Time for Change

‘Tis a time for change and possible upheaval,
tears and bitter laughter and resignation.
“It’s only a job,” oh, it never is
Or maybe it is ONLY a job,
And then you feel guilty because you are fretting over a job?

Is that a first world issue? No, everyone needs a job.
And I do as well.

And this is all about fitting in and standing out
And driving far and striking out
And feeling old and looking young
And saying NO
choosing YES

It’s about living days in suspended excitement-fear-anticipation.

What if?
Is it possible?
Is this an escape?

Until I can finally say, “I am leaving, thanks very much.”

My Love

My love, he refuses to wear a dark sweater as he goes to work in the yard;
He is stubborn, I know.

He will not listen to anyone, not even me.

My love has ideas of his own, some that he shares, and many that remain afloat in his imagination,

My love is secretive and dynamic,
He thinks a great deal, frets a lot,
My love is often doing things on his own,
He seems quiet and content
I see him not much, hear him very little, sometimes.

He speaks to me, I speak to him

We have eyes only for each other.

But we are like twin boats, floating in an endless expanse, tied and tethered to each other, a little, just that much,
so we don’t float off into oblivion,
out of each other’s sight.

He is charting his own path,
I am dreaming of mine.

I think we will keep each other in sight.

But he consults no one about his plans, not even me.

I do the same,

and so on we continue,

into the 20th year of our floating together.

That Kind of Love

You fall in love with a place, a person, an animal
A painting, a piece of music, an actor, a movie.

You fall in love with a moment, a point in time
A place of quiet, a space of meaning and significance

A recipe, a piece of clothing, a book, a flavor of ice cream

And so it goes.

And then it so happens that one day a flower blooms within,
A ray of light seems to emerge straight out of you
A fountain bursts forth into radiant, shimmering jewel tones
Spraying music and light and fun all around.

And then it dawns: You have fallen in love

With life.

And now it is all covered, nothing left out, no one remains untouched
This is the loveliest love of all.

It is never alone, it spares not a soul
It starts pouring out generously, dissolving the worlds and stars and skies and oceans and you.

And that’s the awesomest love of all.