Hour Four, Repeating line, four stanzas

Intersections

We assume separation when in fact there is unseen
connection, one state of being intersects another.
Beach umbrellas lined the shore in multihued rows,
mirroring the shore’s sweeping curve and assuming
the waves will never reach their ordered lines when in fact
chaos creeps closer at each pass, and will soon overwhelm.

We assume separation when in fact there is unseen
connection, one state of being intersects another.
A flower’s petals uncurl, a sea creature spirals its shell,
the hair of my baby’s head clockwise swirls, within
my belly once upon a time his spine curved as he grew,
and nebulae swirl their majestic starry arms, all ordered
to Fibonacci, the scientific dreamer’s, sequence.

We assume separation when in fact there is unseen
connection, one state of being intersects another.
We glimpse a hitchhiker with long, dark hair in
a flashing, clear instant as we pass on the highway,
she on her journey and we on ours, not sparing
another thought until her picture flashes on the news,
a match to our memory, her death intersecting our lives,
one path ending while our own goes on.

We assume separation when in fact there is unseen
connection, one state of being intersects another.
So easy to believe in the moments when I see myself
that this life will go on just as it is, it will continue
on its smooth course, though even without trauma,
without any interrupting drama, this life changes day
by day. The memory of youth and strength lingers
while the outer shell ages, connected and continuing,
eternity in my momentary now.

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