“It is a gift in this life that we do not know what awaits us” (‘Lucy by the Sea’ by Elizabeth Strout)
If my mother knew
her father would die that same year
her husband cheated
If she could foresee somehow see
a series of events perfectly laid out
through those strange arrays of tarot cards
I wonder what would have happened
Would she have stayed
Still would she have left? Would we be braver?
Or even more afraid?
If I had known that first Tuesday in February
what laid before us would I have still kissed you standing on tippy toes
trembling against you in that dusty old room would I have exercised more
restraint knowing all those cold May nights I would spend crying to stars
huddled up against trees should I have known all those cups of
tea I’d have to make (with extra spoons of honey) would I have run into your arms?
If I asked Beethoven or Kundera; they would say:
Muss es sein? Es muss sein! Es muss sein! (Must it be? It must be! It must be!)
To believe in fate seems to me to be a lazy excuse to wash ourselves of all that
heftiness of choice then rationally logically if we could see
what awaits us we would take caution we would close curtains and keep our
guards high and still I cannot be sure if I had any choice
that Tuesday afternoon I would do anything differently
Perhaps Beethoven was right Es muss sein Es muss sein
If I can write at least one poem – or even just one sentence – that makes someone's heart lighter – or just warms their day (like green tea on a windy day or bright sunlight on a freezing afternoon) – if I can do that – then I will feel like I have written something 'good' - because there have been many a cold time when a poem has saved my day :) Social handle is: @nimsilva27 (Instagram)