The Things I Never Did

How I miss the things I never did.

I remember an offer I declined

because it might have

projected me into some unknown

(and thus terrifying) future.

I might have met Dolly Parton.

She might have gifted me with

a hand-me-down wig.

Some agent would (might) have heard me

casually yodeling

as I went about my work

and there, in a lightning flash,

my life would (might) have taken

a new direction.

 

Do I miss that possibility?

I said I did, at the start of this poem.

But it isn't true.

I look back

on that life not lived,

that fork not taken,

and I feel myself accompanied,

even now,

by the friendly ghost of my other self.

 

I wonder how many similar forks

I encountered,

how many forks where I chose left

instead of right

(or vice versa),

and I honour

those forgotten unlived lives.

 

 

Copyright © 2021 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

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Thoughts for Eeyores and Others

Time wounds all heels.

We can but hope.

While we're waiting for time

to do its durndest, however,

let us remember that life is adventure,

not predicament,

not catastrophe.

We might all benefit

from inscribing this thought on our hearts.

 

The Eeyores, for example,

who never met a situation

that wasn't a predicament.

Likewise the why-me crowd.

In my dotage (in my elderhood, I mean to say)

I find myself screaming

(internally, of course)

"Suck it up, you molly-coddlers!"

 

I've wandered from the topic here,

which was the mild suggestion that a simple shift

in point of view could reap

whirlwinds of change.

Life is adventure

(to be sought and embraced)

not a predicament from which to be extricated.

 

What trauma was the origin of the

"predicament" mindset?

Doesn't matter.

I need to shift to let it go.

Adventures R Us from here on.

Maybe.

 

 

Copyright © 2021 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JI4758O

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Touching Home

Well, these are two words

that punch above their weight.

 

Touch. Touching.

This involves skin.

The skin of the fingers, if nothing else,

though the "else", the also,

encompasses skin of all shades and textures—

and of all locations.

 

And home? Where is it? What is it?

It is said that it's where, when you go there,

they have to take you in.

But that definition implies family,

and "home" is so much more.

In the first place, home involves the heart.

The heart is where home is.

Touch it.

 

To touch home is to touch the heart.

Let the vibrations of your voice

reverberate through the soft tissues

of you

until heart itself is touched.

Touch home.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2021 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JI4758O

ListenandLive: http://www.listenandlive.com/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=An+Tudor&search_in_description=1&osCsid=0710648c0eea428843aca84d0c04837d&x=0&y=04837d&x=0&y=0

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