Extent
Yesterday is gone, yet this day recalls,
There is no choice for fateful ways.
When worlds were stopped, inertia played the game,
Forward thrown, unsteady days, ricochet, and rebound!
Now more than hundreds past, but still they come,
Time is not straight, in all directions run,
An image comes, ‘conscience’ an internal fight,
Do I want to tell wrong from right?
The blade so Sharpe, perfection made, this ‘is’ art.
Now upon the ice we stand, and the sun is rising!
How to move from this undesired place,
Take the light, this gift is his, and it shows the way.
Taken then, direction without choice, what will it bring?
Does the knowledge rest in the pages of unread books?
Guide me from this edge, in trust you will not fall,
But tread upon a shore where time itself evaporates…
Bereavement takes us all in different ways. The loss of a son or daughter, perhaps more than most, will have the severest effect. I wrote these lines while suffering such a loss, my thoughts all over the place, and my mind spinning, as these words attest.
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