I am not a poet. Sometimes, I write poetry.
I am not a teacher, still I train and coach.
I am not a student though I continue to learn.
I am not an engineer, and yet I question
the universe and try
to mold a new future,
or maybe invent an impossible one,
I fear.
Of all that I am not…
I am not prepared.
I am not convinced.
I am not culpable.
Yet, of course, I am.
or have been.
or will be.
Most of all, I am not sure.
I explain.
I fail.
The path is twisted,
elusive,
complicated.
Cellular structures,
genetic engineering,
chemistry,
nanotechnology
drift in and out of my thoughts
and discussions.
Alzheimer’s,
caregiving,
his heart,
my heart,
her past,
my present,
his darkness,
my darkness,
her future,
his future,
our journey,
metaphorical
and literal,
nervous,
darkness,
lightness,
too real,
complicated,
serious,
and then
wake up
gasping.
Most of all,
I am not…
sure.
Nothing is absolute.
I am not…
Another Finish the Sentence Friday, which I get to on Sunday, with Finding Ninee. <3 to the linkup here.
Lovely!
Mardra,
It seems to me that you are, indeed, a poet. I love your writing and this particular piece took me to a lot of places. My dad, my son, the future, (possible) Alzheimer’s, hope, being. <3
I’m with Kristi – beg to differ on the not a poet statement. I especially love the opening lines.
Thanks! – Ms