On Giving Up House Or Home

On Giving Up House Or Home

On giving up house or home
For all the Old Folks on the farm or rancho condo

When you are no longer quite as active
Then here is what you do to leap
Run naked along the beach
Of your imagination
Swimming in some beautiful expanse of lake or pond
No longer in your manse
Or rectory, loon perfect
Singing diapasons of recollection.
Careful now, there are the ribs,
The hips to bring us to our broken senses.

And what is meant by such a prologue?
Simply this: these are the wages of age.
Those were the better days
The ways we recall our jubilations.

We are the homo sapiens
When even now walking upright
Is so hard we can only grit
Our teeth and force a rictus smile.

Who, pray (prey) tell, told us we were wise,
Like the three who made their way, and saw the three trees
Etched against the sky, slouching their way to Bethlehem?
We know who or whom was/were there at the beginnings—the tellings-
The good narratives for spacing out our time here:
This planet (and there must be countless
Galaxies otherwise for which there are no travel plans.
Except, again, as we summon them up.)

But that’s good enough for here and now
What’s left of it.

For now, we may be smart enough (if not wise) to
Offer praise to (in alphabetical order) Allah and all the rest,
Like Buddha and for Christ’s sake, Vishnu, Ra,
And, doubling back, why not Athena, for her smarts.

And why not?  There may
Still be time before waiting at the checkout counter.
There will always be long lines

No way to get by at that security line Waiting can become
Some sort of grace.  If only we knew for sure.
“Is it my time now?” Click click
Click go the seeds, the counters.
“Now? Is it my time now?”
“Certainly sir or madame”
As the case may be.
They have donned special
Welcome  ha-ha masks.
Then they say “It’s not Christmas, you know, nor Ramadan, neither.”
(The grammar and special accents are particular and just right..)
We, they continue, are much earlier than that.
We go way back—pre-all those great religions, the Passovers, etc, et
alia
No one nobody no nothing not nada not yes or no—
Just some so distant sound.

There are few ears to hear.

-T.C.Buell

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