Still Life

still-life
In an era
of pithy statements
sound bites
excerpts
and fragments
I find myself
asking
when
will I ever
have time
to listen
for the whole
to tell all
there is
inside
the quiet life
the slow life
the spacious life
the life
we’re raised
to save
for retirement
if you follow
the rules
which of course
I haven’t
the still life
fruit on the table
and the story
of the bowl
where it waits
to be eaten
or rot
whichever comes
first
and then there’s
the question
of
am I doing this
right
the one
that can grow
like an invasive species
on the most beautiful
of plants
the one
the will stop
at nothing
if you don’t
catch it
early
and treat it
often
watch the ripening
and see
if you can
gauge its readiness
I’m writing
to myself
this is not
a poem
or a plea
in fact
it’s me
at my most tired
when words
come
only
in twos and threes
and I
pray for
strength
for parenting
and life
in the forms
of sleep
coffee
a good laugh
a firm kiss
on the lips
from my love
and a reminder
to myself
to go easy
so familiar
not quotable
nor whole
but needed
and so
very
true

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