I will draw from within me
Deep stories,
Images of my life
My Truth
Those essentials
Hard hewn from the tender
Pith of long-lived experience
Buds of visceral emotion
I dared not utter
Or burst to bloom
Along the way,
Lest they be judged
Or worse yet,
Dissolve into
The ether of history.
I would hate to lose those stories
Those feelings
Those life bites
Each with unique flavor
Those saps of life, sweet and
Bitter, mine alone to Savor.
I’ll lay them out before me on the bed
Like family photos from a treasure box
And I’ll remember each one,
And sink low into the memory rings
Of their concentric
Embrace
Until they hold me
There in orbit once again
Circling round their gifts
Once disguised by
Naïveté, now
Revealed through an age of
Reflection.
Though some with no less
The Passion.
I will know them each again.
For they are the worn
And wonderful
Fabric
Of my tapestry.
Pulp in the paper of
my memoir
Love
Disappointment
Adoration
and Abandonment
Betrayal
Delight
Grief.
Serenity
Loyalty
Comfort
Surprise!!
Wonder
All my old friends will be there
Reverence not the least among them.
And Grace will be our conversation.
© Peggy Beatty May 2011
First published in July 2011 Membership Moments, Spiritual Directors International
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