Life, LIke This Poem

Life, like this poem, is made up of moments,

Some we’re aware of, or are we?

It’s morning, not the usual morning, not this one, not today,

Opening the window hearing the birds sing,

Chatting away about where to find food or whatever it might be

The sun wafts in through the sheer curtains,

You stand there, gazing out,

Finally and for the first time aware of everything,

Making a pledge to your self that today won’t fly by

You’ll be aware of everything that goes on

What are the birds saying?

Wait… What was that? What was that noise?

Rushing to the window you see an old car,

Being pulled by another, linked by a chain,

Backfiring as the engine struggles to make something of it’s self

Something that was once there and is no more,

A fire, a spark, a fan turning over and off we go,

The clock radio jumps at your thoughts

The music of Gorecki fills the air

Plaintive, repetitive, brilliant

Your soul dances on the notes, the staff your guide, the bars your floor

The sharps cutting your feet and the flats salving the cuts

Yes, you think,, you truly are alive,, this is a moment,,

Happiness happens in these moments, not the planned ones,,

The ones you can’t control, can’t predict,,

A sequence of events that go wonderfully awry

A sentence that doesn’t end up where you thought it would, but somewhere better, somewhere that lifts you up

And sets you gently back where you were, almost

You realize that maybe you can have a life today,

Just once, find what the poets write about

What the partisans fight for,

What so many people, all your life have promised you you’d find…

You go back to the window, coffee cup in hand, ready to meet the moment

Now that you’ve found it there’s no going back,,

You look up in the perfectly blue sky

You see the planes overhead, not recognizing the marks on them

Not knowing from whence they came

A loud noise in the distance

A flash of light so bright it burns your eyes,

The rest is silence.