Monday, February 25, 2013

The tense of the moment.

I move toward my task
and before I know it, my immediate purpose
has changed.
Something happens without my knowledge.

Then, as I spy my image in the mirror
at the end of the corridor
I straighten up
hips and shoulders undulate
with a cadence
I recognize as mine.

I'm older than my parents were the last time I saw them
older than they appeared in any photograph
they took in their late years. I knew not
what their thoughts were
when I chose not to write
not to visit
not to care enough to recognize their
old age pains.
I'm sure they forgave my sin of youth.

My children, my parents
and grandparents
all move in my body, down that corridor,
longing for a
moment of recognition,
that is neither the past nor the future
but a present
fully conscious
of the
weight of this moment.


  1. oh my that was wonderful
    you nailed it Rosaria
    I too have walked this corridor

  2. we are such walking mysteries!

    ALOHA from Honolulu
    Comfort Spiral
    ~ > < } } ( ° > <3

  3. nicely drawn together, rosaria, all history coursing through one person. and how true this is, how we all identify. today i wanted to hold my daughter and look her in the eye and have her know i know what it is she struggles with - but the young do not hear, do they? they have not grown ears enough to hear. they are so busy inside their own struggles. it will take her decades to come to know and then she might understand and forgive her daughter for her own necessary journey)))


  4. a present fully conscious of the weight of this moment...a hard bit there in the middle...when they dont call or come feel life moving a bit different then...i try to be conscious of it with my parents...

  5. Your ability to assess/access the moment of 'being' is quite extraordinary and wonderful.

  6. your words touch my heart and and soul ....