… brought you here.

By J. K. McDowell

May 2013

 

So, where to start? This is not the beginning.

Sweet amnesia, somehow I have forgotten the way back.

No matter, in this sacred space, we are here.

 

There and again the habits of old intrude

On your progress.  You have to press on and you have

The right to face your accusers, now call them here.

 

Living in this dream, I cannot help but think that

The rules of the game will change.  This is way beyond

A faith in miracles.  How is it I am still here?

 

Your hands alone craft a sacred gift.  The paper

Needs to be clean & crisp, the folds straight & true.

You have to endure the moment, you have to be here.

 

Silence is best when the winds of fate come howling.

Tonight, compassion without any conversation.

The knock at the door – her eyes whisper, “I’m not here.”

 

So, where to end?  No, this is not the finale.

Despite the bitter remembering Jim, I will

Never forget the sacred words that brought you here.

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