A Poem A Day 10.

Afternoon Catechism

Despondent, in the afternoon

heat, this dull interlude a siesta

in an already stalled existence;

painless and pointless, drifting,

waiting for a reason to achieve

something, anything significant,

though what that means, I hardly

know.  So few of us make waves

that anyone notices, and those

who do are rarely satisfied. So

little of my one, small essence

will ever be known, and I wonder

at the thorny gift of conscious

life and how in my own meagre

self I hold the wonder of a thousand

night skies, and the thunder of the

sea in full fury when king tides are

running and the moon is full at

year’s end and how in me there is

the miracle of birth and the layered

patina of uncounted griefs, lived

in raw reality and in the resonant

suffering of others and how I hold

stories of hope for a future long

beyond my span of days, and

memories, mine and collected, of

times in and beyond the hard limit

of my own mortalilty, which I

cannot make longer but perhaps

will make larger, since it does

not take a giant to encompass

eternity and even gods are human

just as even humans are gods.

Kerry Miller