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Squander
by Alison McKenzieStanding just outside myself,
I monitor the progression of a life
Nearly lived
But not well-spent.
Well, at least thats my observation.
Its a strange point of view,
But I find myself there a hundred times a day,
When Im not lamenting,
Or regretting,
Or hoping,
Or praying,
Which just about consumes
The remainder of time.
Time
A curious boundary for this material realm
And I wonder what its like
To live outside of it.
Kind of feels like
Im outside looking in on it all.
Not detached, exactly,
Just separate for a moment.
Ah, but I digress.
This time next year,
I will be a grandmother,
The middle of five generations,
Left in the awe of it
I will try to remain intact,
Feel the joy,
Love the moment,
For they say,
That is all we have.
I dont know about that.
The simultaneous input
Overwhelms me far too often,
And sometimes I cant tell
Which is then and which is now
And which is yet to come.
Standing just outside myself,
The circumference of it astounds me,
This life nearly lived
But not well-spent.
02/07/2008 Author's Note: A momentary sensation of vaporous hands.
Posted on 02/08/2008
Copyright © 2026 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/08/08 at 03:40 AM God, that first stanza's perfect. It gets this thing off to a beautiful start. |
| Posted by Laurie Blum on 02/08/08 at 03:41 PM I like the bookend stanzas and love the commentary on time as a curious boundry! Well done Alison. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 02/11/08 at 07:52 PM Ah yes, time. What is it really? Some of our greatest thinkers still aren't sure. But you know and manipulate where you are in it. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow are but frames of reference and if you are really into "today" this no before and no after. There is just the now of it. Nice write. |
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