Even My Company Forsakes Me (For Salvador Quasimodo)

Relying on my sad hands

that have seen and felt so much stress

is a comfort, because, they can still push

the keys, shift the gears, but, my hands

are an after shock.

Of the life that we all have lived….

and, did we learn?  And, did we 

see? Our bodies hold our life secrets,

like film, they are portraits of our lives.

I can’t remember the events that led to

most of the scars on my arms. 

We walk around in our bodies,

living testimonials of our lives.

For some, we are easily read.

For others we are bodies only 

in relationship to their own,

to be sorted and judged and

put in the place we deem right.

We are life, we are art, music, dance,

drama, color, flavor. It seems too much

so, we want to contain ourselves and

feel comfortable….which  is called death.

It takes some effort, some study and

practice, to be able to just go along with

the way life is, to appreciate, to not be so

judgmental, to change our focus from this

to that.  Because, that’s where it’s at.