I turned a corner without looking first
And bolted from a serious conversation
To the hospital, post-op pain,
Ten other things on my mind.
I was not present today,
Not to the mystery, not to the people
In my life. Their strange tales,
Their stubborn, unmanageable pain.
I did not breathe deeply.
Kyrie eleison.
Christe eleison.
Kyrie eleison.
On the kitchen counter tonight,
A box of rigatoni and a simple recipe.
And in the boiling water in silver pots,
And in the picking of parsley off stems,
And in the simmering tomatoes,
And the banter of careless children,
I am listening to last summer's
Tomatoes singing in the sun.
I am aware of the sixty seconds in a minute.
I am breathing again.
It's not so hard after all.
