This Poem Won't.......

Day Twelve of Wild Writing with Laurie Wagner

This poem won’t return us to six months ago,
before the virus altered our world
and removed our innocence.
But it can wonder about six months from now
and who among us will still be here.

This poem won’t change the landlord’s heart
and bring you a puppy,
but it will remember the puppies you’ve loved.
(It might bring you some tears.)

This poem can’t make your legs stronger
so you can walk farther, but it will fold itself up,
stick itself in your pocket, and amble with you
slowly along the shore, cane 

tap tap tapping,

breathing in the salt and the seaweed,
checking out the travelling clouds,
thrilling to the song of the waves, 

taking notes for the next poem.

This poem can’t fix all the things
that need fixing. It is too big a job.
But it can reflect on the state of the world,
with concern and dismay,
and offer some solace and hope
to the world-weary.

This poem can point the way to a better tomorrow,
can encourage, empathize, offer support
and a way forward. It can offer direction to those
searching for a Way, some life wisdom
to the young and worried, a virtual hug
for those sitting in silent rooms, alone,
just as I am sitting in a silent room, alone.

This poem can’t bring you the love
you waited your whole life for; it can’t
restore all that has been taken away,
the many loves you have lost.
But it can send you down a path
in an old growth forest, where you
can breathe in the peace, fortify
your heart in the healing silence,
and mend some of the cracks
in your soul.

This poem can’t turn back the clock,
but it can remember.


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