Poetry 101 Rehab prompt: Missing
Hosted by Andy Townend
You’re not missing much, not knowing me.
I’m actually quite dull. I read more
than I talk, these days…or listen.
I know what I am missing. Saw it, did it
years before, if it was worth the doing.
I sampled more than once, if it tasted good.
I walked or rode a bicycle, and didn’t own a car.
I sang show tunes, walking down the quiet streets,
picked up compliments and conversations and new friends.
Instead of watching picture shows, I played piano,
trumpet, and guitar. I learned to play a wooden flute.
I didn’t watch TV, but climbed trees, ran like the wind.
I used to swim for half an hour every morning,
lift weights every other day, work on my balance.
I’ve done, I am still doing what I was made to do.
More than memories, I have experience of days, ideas,
skills and plans and work. I am not missing anything.
Centered, I still stand, filled with deep, quiet and abiding joy.
Copyright © 2015-11-10, by Elizabeth Bennefeld. All rights reserved.
Sometimes, looking back, it seems as though both decisions and chance led inexorably from childhood to now (whenever “now” might be). We script our lives. We go back and reframe the random bits and byways until they make sense. Until everything “fits” to make a good story. I think that may be a primary motivator for writing an autobiography.