Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

We Are Not Here

We Are Not Here
to find our peace and contentment –
much less bliss.

We are not here to find our peace and contentment.

We are here
to play witness
to the continual hiccupping
of modest tragedies
that bubble up from the depths of Just the Way it Is
and explode at life’s surface
leaving snot-like scars at our veins

We Are Not Here
to search out answers
to tests given at the end of life’s semester;

We do not have anything for which to study.

We are here
to brave the momentum
of time’s swoop
and do little more than spin our darling wheel brains
in mental acrobatics
until we become afflicted with fatigue,
fall

And then sometimes, on occasion,
we are asked to taste honey
–but don’t swallow!
or cook
on the stovetop
because that shit –
no matter how good it tastes –
is poisonous

[to j.h. - for the inspiration]

§212 · June 21, 2006 · Poetry · · [Print]

1 Comment to “”

  1. jared says:

    reminds me of Mary Frye’s poem…

    Do not stand at my grave and weep
    I am not there; I do not sleep.
    I am a thousand winds that blow,
    I am the diamond glints on snow,
    I am the sun on ripened grain,
    I am the gentle autumn rain.
    When you awaken in the morning’s hush
    I am the swift uplifting rush
    Of quiet birds in circled flight.
    I am the soft stars that shine at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry,
    I am not there; I did not die.

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