Savings

You have been saving the world
for so long that no one can find
you anymore.  No one knows where
you are or how to get from there
to here, how or who to search for
in the dark of darks, what strip
to lay waste to, what waist to
circle with arm or belt, saying
‘come along, come along’ as
if everything will be all right
at the end of the hall, when 
the therapy is done, when you
go back home to bounce back
but no one says anything about
bouncing back and forth, do they?

No one tells you the price.  No 
one mentions that it’s paid in
all directions at once, that there
is no keeping it contained.  It 
goes when it goes and you can
not make it go when it doesn’t.
It’s just like that.  And that other
thing; it’s like that too, but it’s
not like anything else, nor is it
elseing like nothing at all.

You have been saving the world 
for so long that no one can find
the you that is doing the saving.









[Inspired, spun off from, SPRUNG from this poignant piece by the most indefatigable 
M. Lewis Redford.  I can not say exactly what happened to me when I read this poem,
except to say that mind, memory, hope and heartbreak all collided and colluded to give 
me this piece--of a piece--and it fell, whole, into my lap. (Well, except for that last little
bit.  It fell later, like an over-ripe fruit from what strange tree...into....the sea....you see?)]