When you see you
you see the borders of your being.

When I see you
I see a woman set on the horizon
crafting from the clouds
mountain cascades and brooks,
soft low-incline hills
with glides on the other sides
so long, you could coast for days.

When you see you
you see what could have been.

I see a biography as rich
as Lincoln's or Monet's or Pizzaro's,
as fanciful as Carroll, or Seuss, or Rowling,
as visionary as Roddenbury or the Book of Revelation.

When you see you
you see mistakes and regrets.

I see Mary and her child,
Teresa and her poor,
the courage of Cameron
the compassion of Inez.

When you see you
you see anchors and the past.

I see Curie, Catherine the Great, and Cortez,
Kennedy , King, and Glenn in space,
wildness, willows, and a wandering woman,
Guthries and galleons and gleaming glaziers.

When you feel you
you feel fear and doubt.

I feel pride and innocence and love
the flight of eagles,
the gentleness of a dove.

I know it isn't possible to see
the grandeur others see in me,
my goodness and my humanity.

I know the limits of my own sight,
to see the darkness AND the light,
to know my day and my night.

But this is my wish for you -
to transform old into new
to embrace the past and wish it adieu,
to have one glimpse before you die
of the Now in the by and by,
of the God and the we in your I.

Dedicated to my sister, Geneva.

05/30/2002

Posted on 05/30/2002
Copyright © 2024 Glenn Currier