I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
T. S. Eliot
The wishbone
Today I had
the thought,
Do not, do
not, on pain of freaking death, look backward,
Look backward
over your shoulder at anything that you
Have done or
that has transpired,
Because you
will have one of two reactions:
You will hate
what you have done, who you were, all the
mistakes
You have made,
all the chances not taken,
Or else you
will so love the times that were sweet
blossomings,
Heady gardens
of the mind,
That you will
ache for those times and die inside,
Knowing they
will never return.
Today I had
that knowledge, but did I absorb it?
I never knew
when things were crowning anyway,
When moments
were sublime,
For they slid
out from under me even as I experienced them.
Far from
trusting that these moments would come again,
Which they
would not,
I tried to
seize them, to keep them close, but they only
changed form
In some
incredible miracle from solid to liquid
A collapsing
snow castle.
My life has
been a road steadily pulled out from under me
By some unseen
hands
And I’ve had
to run to keep up with it
To keep from
falling on my ass
Or hitting the
back of my head.
My life has
been some sort of awful conundrum,
An
impenetrable puzzle that the newspaper
Forgot to
publish the answer to,
With too many
gifts of the wrong sort, things I could
Never share
because I was never given the chance:
No, not never,
for I tasted of the thing I wanted most,
Or thought I
wanted most,
Like a tongue
on powdered sugar.
Births
slingshot into nine-year birthday parties,
And I see the
infant I watched slide into the doctor’s hands
Blowing out
her nine candles,
Looking about
fourteen years old,
Her hair up,
her eyes knowing,
Her smile
splitting my heart. She looks nothing
Like me or my
side of the family,
And the
Spanish blood that lurks several
Generations
back is clear in her almond-eyed,
Almost
Castilian beauty.
It can’t get
any better, God won’t let it,
In fact God is
the reason for all this:
I want to say,
take me
NOW so I don’t
have to see any more,
So that I will
not be dragged to the awful breaking point,
The point of
disaster that I know is coming
If I don’t get
out of here soon.
This puppet
dance amuses me,
Though the
first time I saw it in that odd old movie
It tore me to
pieces.
I forgot to
mention in the labels
That the music
is by Bartok
Who knew a
thing or two about horror.
I could say
something now about puppets and strings,
But I know it would
be awful.
I am in a
labyrinth, somewhere in the middle so that
It is possible
to move in any direction
And be equally
lost. I hit
Dead end after
dead end, the board
Tilted nastily
so that the little silver ball
Keeps on
dropping through the holes.
I don’t want
to read any more biographies,
Don’t want to
read about
How lavishly
gifted people
Threw
everything away with both hands
Continually
Because I
don’t know what these things are
Supposed to do
for us anyway,
Inspire us,
Inspire
revulsion or pity
Or
embarrassment or discouragement or what?
I am told to
try and try. But it turns out
That this is
what they tell people anyway, it’s kind of
Standard,
A form letter of advice,
And I am the
only one who pays attention to it.
It has become
clear to me
Just
today, just this minute
That my
efforts are an embarrassment to everyone
Because they
didn’t really mean I SHOULD try –
It is the best
way to get rid of me quickly
With no sticky
feelings involved
Or perhaps it
makes them feel better,
Which is what
apology is really all about,
It has nothing
to do with the wounded party,
Who smugly
assumes the person is truly contrite.
I have a
certain fascination for divination and
Signs,
Splintery
snaps of the wishbone
Dried on top
of the fridge for months
Yielding only
the dessicated remains of a turkey or duck
Knowing none
of this ever comes true,
That there is
in fact no special protection,
No amulet that
holds off disaster,
And the
realization is strong, and inspires all sorts of
Awful visions:
Dancing along
the edge of the Skytrain platform
Feeling a
little woozy
As if the
couple of pills I just took
Might after
all have been a bad idea.
|
"Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you."
ReplyDelete"You win a few, you lose a few. Some get rained out. But you got to dress for all of them."
"Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like nobody's watching."
"Age is a question of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter."
- Satchel Paige