Right now–
Who
do I take myself to be?
Am I pretty?
Am I smart?
Am I thoughtful slow?
Or bold and quick to start?
Do I lack?
Or, even though I lack,
do I still think and feel
I have
and
do, and be, and act
aplenty?
Do I mourn the streams of days and years gone by
as wish for former times?
Or can I truly long for what’s in store,
although it’s been long
to the fore
that my years count more than twenty?
Do I yet
regret the things I have not seen or done
or felt, or never managed to receive?
And even if so,
can I pick up the tale
and write it this minute, second hour,
with my own current brand
of fiery warmth and light
and gentle power?
The feast is movable,
you see,
and all these questions,
and answers do therefore
a dynamic thread
and supple, flowery sort of fabric weave,
when I take care and dare
to look
at the stories that
I have long told
and will tell as I go forth,
to myself and other folks
about who I am,
and how and what the world is,
according to the way
the workings of my mind and heart and soul
lay the ground,
and allow me to express
the most important points
of how,
in this moment,
and in my life,
I truly feel
and believe.
The Danforth Anchor 