The ongoing back-and-forth of what to do with my life (a poem)

The week of reflection continues…

The painting on the wall is unfamiliar
I’m told it’s one of mine
My memory of creating it doesn’t exist
although I recognize the errant brush stroke
as something I might do

The pen strokes in the book are more familiar
I recognize the writing as mine
My memory of the words isn’t quite so clear
I’m surprised by some of the things I write
as much as they may be true

The sudden shift to blue
colors everything in view
Stop-and-start becomes the default mode
My perspective whips from past to past to future
one moment clarity, the next encrypted code

(12 May 2015—posted May 13)

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