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| Still Life ~Robert Williams |
Now
a time with little of it left
I gather gently to my breast
all my life crammed into given space
not to sort as pictures in a box
into tidy stacks by time and place
but as Harvest do they come
their random fruits to trace
remembrances to keep
what I sowed, what I reaped
how and whom I loved
when and where
what was given me to bear
what was taken, what received
of all I once too easily believed--
A maze it seemed I thought I knew
in all directions I could choose
was but a labyrinth I wandered through
along its unicursal way of hope and fear
leading to the center
now and here
I reminiscence with gratitude, in joy, in pain
at times mythologizing all that’s been
or seeing clearly parts I played
in life’s grand drama
self and heaven made
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