So many experiences, so little time--here's a poem about being a supernumerary in the opera "Sky on Swings"
So it appears I've been neglecting this blog--so much goes on Facebook--I think it's time that more work goes here. While this spot doesn't get the traffic that Facebook does, the saying "If you build it, they will come," from Field of Dreams, might apply here. Stay tuned! Meanwhile, my most recent poem...
Sky—Diary of a
Supernumerary
In the Kimmel Center, I wait, words slipping
my mind. Waiting in line, I gaze up. An endless ceiling
fades
into space. I walk across stage on cue, fade off.
I am presence only, appearing to have Alzheimer’s
(pretense aided by memory lapses. There is no
singing. Is there a swan song—maybe mine?)
We come in different colors, all of us
fading into space, wondering.
(Has our fade begun?)
Who are we? We cross life’s stage,
then gone. We are here,
however, always, walking, walking,
weaving
into and out of lives, maybe
noticed, always
present. Have we lived? had
spouses? children? jobs? Or faded
over years, no connections, no one
to choose us as their first and only? born
to roam? remind you that we live
and eat and sleep and die under
your eyes?
We live. That much is true, the
world our poem, the universe our music.
Where after that? We are a line, stretching
into space, connected
threads,
the universe, the atoms, protons, quarks, interwoven
to make us, disperse
us, and we keep coming, which is our prayer.
Where are we going? We become
the afterlife, the before life, the during life, the lives,
marching across the universe, reminding you,
you are that line. You too march across years and into the
void,
or into the light, or into the heart of someone who falls in
love. We are
forever, no end, no beginning, like God or so we’ve heard of
God.
God marching with us across time, across space, into the
firmament, into your heart,
where you fall in love, maybe have children,
the chain that takes us from now
to forever amen,
from now to forever amen.
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