To my wonderful neurosibs, Devereaux and Laina, who, in the course of a great conversation, pointed out the power of the phrase  “redeeming time”. 

Surveying my times…

A past littered by shattered pieces,

Jaggedy edges jutting from the 

Aging earth.

Some my own mistakes,

Some mistakes laid upon me. 

So much a broad landscape of an 

Incredibly achy existence.

Oh, so many days it

Looms large in my crying mind’s eye,

Sounding the echo over the long, long lines.

It hurts. It hurts.

Smack of hand, bellow of voice.

It hurts. It hurts.

Shrug in his tone, slamming door.

It hurts. It hurts.

And I want to scream in a way

I never allowed myself-

You stole my time!!!

Ripped the ticking hours right from

My always uncertain grasp,

Took advantage of the chance

To shake up my hourglass

And smother me in the fast-falling sand!

Wouldn’t go back if you paid me,

Yet I cannot help a wistful gaze at

What could’ve been

If only…

But you can’t turn the clock backwards, needling truth reminds.

This is your life. No rewinds.

Yes, yes, I sigh, staring into the 

Bone-deep tiredness 

My glass affords.

You cannot rehearse the past. 

Dialogue never changes.

Ending is forever the same…

I know it. I own it.

And yet…

There are still sparks reflecting in

Painful etchings of my life.

I see it in the bright candlelight of my 

Young ones’ gazes,

Dancing in the fanciful whirl of these, 

My next generation.

In the love that threads us tightly together,

My youth is reborn.

Beyond the scarring marks back on the road, 

I drink their gifts and

Breathe anew.

Joy reawakens the senses

As the discarded shards come 

Together again,

Some perhaps in the fullest ways

I have ever known.

And the play carries on in a

Delightfully different sort of sameness,

Unfolding before me,

Yet still a part of me.

So, in them, the minutes roll back, after all…

And the supposedly unfathomable

Comes into view.

Defeatist must bow as it is 

Proven the ending is not so inevitable…

As it is found despite the rage of

Most of my days

It is mine-

The ever-fascinating,

Astoundingly flexible

Redeeming of time…


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