The world is uncertain.
Continents split, needs are denied, hearts stop,
Bridges collapse and rivers flood,
A child can rise from the dead.

I go to catch a tumbling leaf and miss.
I go to catch a tumbling glass and miss.
I go to catch a tumbling body, and miss.
I try to run from someone, and am caught swiftly.

Things change unexpectedly.
My hair springs, crow’s feet sprout in the night;
I grow older and find myself sweeping skeletons
Out of the closet and inviting them in for supper.

Little pieces disappear. Large items
Take their space. I am often explaining Time,
As though it were an organism
With life of its own.

Happenings happen, without so much a flick.
I am meeting souls without warning and
Bandaging their wounds, not knowing
What is truly right or wrong.

But, it is a grace, this Existing.
Mistaking demons for angels and such.
Mistaking food for frivolity.
Making mistakes, carving a small rose
From a hardened thorn with care, then throwing it to the fire.

First published on Poet’s Corner June 03, 2016