Poetry Wednesday, Vol. 62

Last Friday in an effort to gain some perspective and some peace we took advantage of the glorious un-fall like weather and walked around the watershed. We were there for hours, exploring, playing in the creek, building various fairy houses along the way. Lately I have had this feeling that there is something more for me. Something, oh, I don’t know, more.

These kinds of thoughts always make Mike a little nervous, do you want to go back to work?, do you want the kids out of your hair more?, are you unhappy? dissatisfied?

And it’s not that, I just sometimes feel I can do more. More of something, I just don’t know what.
Know what I mean?

We are still waiting for another guest of two for our little elderly boarding house. It has been a struggle to get another person. We are going through the state and anyone who has worked with the state knows that it’s all rainbows and sunshine and puppy dog kisses, so I’m not sure why this process has been so slow.

But I think that’s the more. When Lois was here it was difficult and overwhelming and tiring and hard, but there was a satisfaction in it, knowing I was taking care of my little family, plus a little more. It seems to me, that for me at least, just taking care of my family is not quite enough. There is someone else somewhere that needs us to serve them as well. (and then when I have a bad day and blow up at the kids it’s because I’m overwhelmed with service and it’s not really my fault, right? right?!!)

But for right now, this is it. This is my verse, my contribution. And this may be my only contribution. I will be happy with all four of my contributions. They are fully engaging and satisfying. My heart may yearn for more occasionally, but for now I am fully satisfied with what I have.

O Me! O Life!

Walt Whitman

O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish
thank I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of
the struggle even renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds
I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me
The question, O me! so sad, recurring – What good amid
these, O me, O life?

That you are here – that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on , and you may contribute a

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