No stretch of imagination yields
remembrance of having asked for
this particular life in time

or even life in general.  Old Plato
might insist it was a previous request,
a decision taken earlier, elsewhere:

to come in January, for example,
unto certain parents, to come
for example, to Boston, Massachusetts.

Angels might decide to do that
and have no need to make sense of it.
They come but never stay.

This body, though, this hand
turning a calendar page
feels more done-unto than doing

it grasps the ordered days
as spent paper while the mind
absents itself, wandering

back to the anticipation of delight,
past delight itself,
seeking the original plan.

2 responses »

    • I wonder, John, if it’s true, as some say, (Plato!) that we choose to be born in a certain time and place to particular parents. In my own case, my parents, still teenagers, “had to” get married because of my impending arrival. As the first of a succession of seven children I always carried the burdensome question of whether things might have been better for them had I not appeared just then, allowing them to grow up, allowing more things to go right, rather than wrong. A great spur to constant ambition and “proving” by achievement that it was okay that I showed up! Crazy, I realize, but there you have it….all water under the bridge now. Still, it’s an interesting question…Thank you so much for your kind words about this poem…they mean a great deal. 🙂

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