Sunday, November 27, 2016

November 27, 2016 The Sunday Whirl #275 -- Sunday's Whirligig #85 -- Poet's United Poet's Pantry / Patterns of Change

Patterns of Change

as we live          we find we do things over and over               until they become patterns

patterns define us       give keys to who we are                        patterns of speech

patterns of movement patterns of expression                          you say you want change

change isn't easy                   hard to drop old ways                  over time we have become

who we are                             point to our chest                         this is who i am

like the sculptor                      i have worked hard                     to become me

in all my weirdness                who is to say                         we are not like the house of cards

if one is pulled                        the whole thing might fall            who can say which one



not to sound righteous            but accept me as i am                        less than perfect                    

no easy way to remove          the offensive parts                  cannot be cut away with scissors

swinging from your chatelaine           in church we heard                 remove the plank

from your own eye      before you attempt to remove the splinter from mine     all is quiet

someone coughs in the back             the sound echoes                   the liturgy continues              

i am not a sudden appearance           but rather i am a work in progress     i am not an apparition

i have been here for a long time        creating patterns                    i hold the ends of the yarn

thread the shuttle                    weave a life                                        in my own image



where is it written                   we can ask another to change         we have been ourselves       

since we were kids                we have heard the call                       we have answered

now we are old                       change isn't easy                               at any age

the day will come                   we will lie flat                                      we will be food for the crows

we will begin to smell             you will recognize the change           the last change we will make

loved ones dabbing                tears from their eyes                          it will be a furtive change

the patterns we created          will be set                                           will be remembered

November 27, 2016

                                                                                                           

                                   

                                   

  

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