The alphabet of possibilities stare at me from the keyboard
And I wonder
What the next word or thought
Or sentence will be.
Is it I who controls where my fingers shall move or something else-
Beyond my control,
Beyond my understanding,
Beyond my wisdom?
Like life and death-
The two things we struggle most to understand
And yet the things that remain furthest from our grasp.
From one we often run and,
While trying to avoid the other,
We walk daily,
Into it’s grasp.
And then a full stop.
Has my mind stopped talking,
Or has my heart stopped feeling?
Is it there from where it flows?
The words I write-
The feelings I embrace or hide from,
The voice I portray, the voices I ignore,
The ying and yang of would I,
Why didn’t I,
Why couldn’t I,
Why wouldn’t I?
Does the who I am come from the how I feel
Or is it the other way around
Or does any of it really matter?
Has any of it really mattered and, if so,
And if not- why not?
I lost my parents before I knew them
And so never cared to morn.
I found another to love me over
And so never asked why I was born.
By twenty I thought I knew love,
Knew the world,
Knew where I was.
At almost forty I know that wasn’t so.
Since early years I’ve loved over and over and questioned it again and again
What made them arrive if only to go?
Was it fate, my destiny, on the cards- I don’t yet know?
If it all ends tomorrow
Can I say I did enough?
If it begins tomorrow
Can I say that I am ready?
If I cry tonight
Will I remember the laughter?
If I am alone tonight
Will I know it’s not forever after?
Am I selling out,
Have I sold enough,
Have I pushed myself to the extreme?
Have I made good choices?
Can I believe what I did had merit.
I know I have hurt but never with intent
Though I still see the tears in yours eyes
But tomorrow if I am asked to name those who love me
I know to the list I can still add your name,
His name, her name,
I know I have tried to be true to myself
To honour the life I’ve been given.
I can see past the darkness
And far beyond the hills
And along the way notice every tiny spec of beauty.
To say I could ever really know myself would be to say I have finished my life,
For that- I think- is the point to it all
To live in the journey to me
And find along the way
A few words what matter.