BLESSINGS

 

 

I’ve heard stories I don’t remember
embellished into local myths
no longer true, no longer claimed

as I age, as memory fades
as it should from the far context
of most outdoor youths.

Oh, how we howled like a pack
of coyotes in these canyons—
louder yet in towns avoided now.

But a man learns not to dwell
on guilt, what can’t be helped
to please the righteous—

evolutions of imperfection
honed into an existence
we’ll soon live without.

 

2 responses to “BLESSINGS

  1. John, I like this poem quite a lot — the mutability of local legends, our fading connection with the present, and, especially, the inevitability of being “without”.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply to John Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.