Right here, right now,
I am gazing at the bare branches
of the cherry trees,
divested of their leaves.
of the cherry trees,
divested of their leaves.
The visiting dog is
rolling and rubbing himself
on the lawn, and groaning,
making us laugh,
making us laugh,
reminding me of my own wolf-dog,
how he cracked me up every day,
how, at times, he tried to talk.
What is wisdom?
What is letting go?
the poet asks.
I ponder.
Now is the time for
long, slow days,
remembering:
remembering:
all the losses, all the gifts,
the hellos and the goodbyes.
How joyously we welcomed in
all of those highs,
how we mourned all the lows.
And yet what we were mourning
were the things that had brought us
the most happiness. So were they even
losses in the end?
Perhaps wisdom is
the letting go,
the acceptance of
Being Here Now.
I cast my mind back
through all the years,
plucking out this memory,
and that, like silver-backed salmon
from shining seas.
Truly, I am not counting losses
at all, but only gifts. Old age
is a time when, though we carry grief,
we hold it with gratitude,
hearts replete with
all of the beauty,
all of the blessings.
we hold it with gratitude,
hearts replete with
all of the beauty,
all of the blessings.
Letting go
of the beauty of this earth
will be the hardest.
But, for that,
all that we need do
is to
surrender.
of the beauty of this earth
will be the hardest.
But, for that,
all that we need do
is to
surrender.
"Perhaps wisdom is
ReplyDeletethe letting go,
the acceptance of
Being Here Now."
Those words definitely resonate! And yes, instead of looking on losses we must look at gifts. Wise words here, Sherry.
I feel the happiness as well as sorrow etched in the poem yet the tone of contentment rings all through. So beautiful Sherry.
ReplyDelete"how, at times, he tried to talk." I quote this line because it reminds me of a stray, street dog of Kolkata named Aloka (meaning light, in Bengali & Sanskrit). You'll be delighted to know its story, Sherry. Pup was also a beautiful soul.
Sumana, Aloka is now walking across the USA with nine monks, walking for peace, compassion, kindness. I am following their beautiful journey.
Delete"Truly, I am not counting losses
ReplyDeleteat all, but only gifts." Joy and love are like that. The depth of grief seems to be in proportion to the depth of love, but once the joy is given, it never truly goes away. I like how you move through this poem, showing the process of your thought. I also like the "silver-backed salmon"!
Loss is part of life. You are wise to value all the gifts you have received and enjoyed...writing poetry being only one of them.
ReplyDeleteWhat a profound and yet personal poem - I love the image of the silver-backed salmon and how you (the poet) ponder. I am certain the things we lose are indeed gifts. Things to be remembered with love and be grateful we survived perhaps? Jae
ReplyDeleteA very thoughtful write 👏
ReplyDeleteLovely poem, Sherry. In order to enjoy the here and now, we have to let go, but that doesn't obliterate our memories of the past. Letting go can make the past a better place to visit occasionally.
ReplyDelete