Wednesday, November 24, 2010

A Poem: Stricken

I dream of floating up and away,
to a land far from here,
far from all my troubles,
outstanding petulant to-do-list residents--
permanent residents
it seems these days
follow me around, waving their arms violently 
in the air and screaming at me
to mark them complete,
and all I want to do is
drive on the coast of Maine
and stop at a cemetery,
walk around the lovely grounds
and ask the bees to show me mercy,
and leave me be--

and then,
I come upon a bench labeled with a name,
a noun
a verb
a permission slip:


(I abide. 
I'm not together
but I'm getting there.)

*Note: I did visit Maine in September. It was a trip full of serendipity, grace, and healing. See all the photos I took here.

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