The Poetry Marathon

(Response to Dear Little Self Whose Mother Didn’t Love You)

I called for you one night.

You didn’t come.

I couldn’t come to you

because of the man with a knife

who was in my bedroom door.

He was real enough to me.

I called and called.

At last you came.

You were angry at being awakened.

You let me sleep the rest of the night

with you.

I needed the comfort of your arms,

your voice.

You turned your back to me

and said nothing.

At least the dream-man

couldn’t get me there.

It wasn’t you.

It wasn’t ever you.

You feel so lacking,

so somehow not enough.

Third child of five,

Lost in the crowd.

Invisible, just one more kid.

Stairsteps, I heard us called.

The Smart One, at least.

She did do that for you.

Not The Pretty One.

Not The Artistic One.

But The Smart One.

Hold onto that.

It will serve you well.

Hold on also to your books, little self.

They are your lifeline.

You will grow, little girl.

Know that you are worthy of the world.

Believe in the goodness of your dreams.

She was wrong, little one.

She was wrong.

A.

Dandelion.

Yellow blossom.

White seeds with wings.

Wishflower.

B.

Dandelion orb

Seeds fly to find fertile ground

Determined to live

C.

They call you a weed.

Telltale yellow face in grass.

Dandelion grin.

Without a map, you can go anywhere,

but you might not want to be there.

With a map, you can choose your destination,

but you might miss lots of treasures on the way.

Without a map, you never know what’s coming —

fair weather or foul, faithful friends or scoundrels,

delicious food or piss-poor cooks.

With a map, you can make reservations,

let them know you’re coming, that you expect the best.

I traveled sixty years without a map.

For my last forty, I’m choosing

where I go,

how I get there,

and whose company I keep.

What did the serpent whisper

that split the world asunder

in that distant, long-past time?

He chose his words carefully,

knowing that the future mayhem of this planet

depended on the words he spoke.

Clever, diabolical being —

He leaned close to the cave man’s ear

and said the words that would divide

humans throughout history:

“You’re better than them.”

It’s all true, you know.

Surely, at some level, you know.

Your God and my God

and all those “other” Gods

are One,

are different interpretations of the same divinity.

How startled we will be on that last explosive day

to see “Them” ascending right there beside “Us.”

All the divisions we’ve created will disappear like a child’s tears

when distracted by a different toy,

and the love we could have known throughout the eons of humankind

will blossom in the light of Truth,

and then, only then,

there will be Peace on Earth.

The sun shines still as brightly as when you were aware.

Though you do not seem to notice, its beauty still is there.

Though your mind is fogged with worries and your heart is dull today,

The trees are still the same as when they held you in their sway.

The mountains are as lofty as when you visited last year;

the little brooks still babble with confidence and cheer.

The grass still grows beneath you; the sod still sings it song.

All is waiting here to greet you; don’t let them wait too long.

Their joy in life is growing and helping others grow.

Their joy will help to heal you, their love will make it so.

I watched with rapt attention

and no little apprehension

as my newest Great Invention

(I should probably here mention

this was NEVER my intention)

threw the world into ascension

at the World Invention Convention.