I, Me and Other
Poetry by Gill Schwartz

MIS CUMPLIANOS

Ground quaking thumps as each freight car rumbles by,
fade like a long breath back into the stillness
of rustling leaf music and the chirping birds
that pick at the seeds I've spread on the porch rail.

While I pluck age withered flowers from my fuchsia
and envy the sprite buds that take their place,
its luscious purple nature speaks to mine.
Today, completing 70 years,
I ponder acceptance.
And my mantra is, "All that is, as is."

"As is." Blossom and perish.
Flame to ash,
Hope to compost.
All that's happened in my life. "As is."

Does, "All that is, as is" confirm
that my three score years and ten
absolve my desperate seeking for God
in this Realm that flowers, fades and falls.

In a gesture of offering, my heart
opens and, breath held, hopefully wonders,
will, "All that is, as is", shatter me
with torment and delight?
And reveal...?

 

 

Copyright Nathaniel Schwartz 2003   www.WisdomVisions.com