For Sunday Scribblings, it's all about anticipation:
In high school I wrote an essay
and Carly Simon sang a song
that restless waiting for something undefined,
expectation and excitement.
almost a physical ache, yearning for more,
hardly daring to breathe
longing for something, anything to change:
a light to dawn; an outstretched hand.
Suddenly a smile dazzles the room,
instant recognition as hearts race.
Long-awaited meeting of kindred spirits
impatient wanderings to this end:
the elusive prize in plain sight.
Despite every effort
even the best strategies can unravel. Fate intervenes,
flogging an alternate game plan
in a language you don't understand,
yet the stakes are tightrope high.
Years later fragments of that foreign clime
seek you out, melancholy clings for days,
scratching old wounds until they weep.
Precious memories wrap parcels of time;
dreams haunt your nights, still searching for the key.
Unlocking the mysteries of timing
that could take two people made for each other
and let geography and circumstance deter them
from the one thing they wanted most;
wrench their eyes off the prize, even for a moment.
But reality's harsh glare blinds your vision
and you sigh, tucking that dream away for safekeeping.
It wasn't meant for the countenance of years
but to provide solace in the desert,
grateful for magic remembered.
Like Cavafy's Ithaca,
anticipation gave you the journey
and has no lessons left.
The belief in joy and possibility
propelled you forward, seeking treasure.
For a while, its promise glittered
and shimmered brightly in the sun.
Then a veil lifted, the light dimmed
and the miracle turned into a mirage.
Still, in the desert flowers bloom.