Of all our friends the best is time because
it passes, and stays,
when we need it to do so.
Sometimes we probably need both
depending on the scene
of the crime or creation du jour.
Tempis fugit, for which we’re grateful; yet there
are nights we wish never to end.
The present is hard. Harder than the past
and future and then.
Now is tricky. Almost not
real. Almost too real. Sometimes,
looking back, surreal. Often
we rush right through it. Oh dear, my dear.
Parent. Child. Lover. Home. Career. Are you here?
Were you there? Will you be? And when?
Must not hurry, worry, forget or
remember…. Or, is that
exactly what must happen?
Unsure, we tilt towards the light.
Grateful for the sun that
is hope bursting forth. Time and again.
Another thanksgiving ‘midst much sturm und drang
at what befell or could befall.
Appreciating what is and will be
as we hug hope in
November and smile inside.
Embracing time flowing.
Whether we stop and breathe or
stop and don’t doesn’t matter so much.
Because we’re not alone. No one is alone.
And yes we can have it. Both ways.
|Then. Now. When.|
A poem in loving memory of Felix, who died two Novembers ago, in adoring tribute to my extraordinary Dad, who is dying this November, in tender devotion to Mark, who I met last November (and subsequently married) and in gratitude to all the wonderful friends, past, present and future, who make the time matter.