This is a contemplative morning for me, and there's a lot rumbling around in my head. I'm not at work today because I am finally going in to see the doctor about this itchy skin. I've spent the morning correcting papers and listening to Led Zeppelin. Does it really get any better than that?
For the last few days, I've had an idea for a poem floating around in my head. (Monday morning, I scribbled the opening lines on an index card right in the middle of teaching a lesson on the dangers of living in Alaska.) I think it finally came together this morning, and I'll be honest with you. I don't normally have much an emotional reaction to my own writing, but this one brought tears to my eyes. Part of me feels like I haven't done the concept here the justice it deserves, and there's always the chance that I'll elaborate a bit more. For now, though, I need to share this.
My kindred,
is it enough to know
you're part of the world
that we'll always stare
at the same night sky
in different hemispheres
and still contemplate together
our minuteness
in the universe?
Even though our paths diverge
and carry us on
to new adventures and new positions,
can I rest alone and dream
of the memories and the music
intertwined like our limbs,
swaying in the glow of the morning sun
and know that for a fleeting moment
in this speck of time we call life
we shared
the kind of magic
that others
only imagine.
For the last few days, I've had an idea for a poem floating around in my head. (Monday morning, I scribbled the opening lines on an index card right in the middle of teaching a lesson on the dangers of living in Alaska.) I think it finally came together this morning, and I'll be honest with you. I don't normally have much an emotional reaction to my own writing, but this one brought tears to my eyes. Part of me feels like I haven't done the concept here the justice it deserves, and there's always the chance that I'll elaborate a bit more. For now, though, I need to share this.
My kindred,
is it enough to know
you're part of the world
that we'll always stare
at the same night sky
in different hemispheres
and still contemplate together
our minuteness
in the universe?
Even though our paths diverge
and carry us on
to new adventures and new positions,
can I rest alone and dream
of the memories and the music
intertwined like our limbs,
swaying in the glow of the morning sun
and know that for a fleeting moment
in this speck of time we call life
we shared
the kind of magic
that others
only imagine.
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