Albert Handell – Lookout Point / Pastel
Whither Thou Goeth
Life, naughty life, thou sneeketh up on me. Thou bendeth
thy irresistible crooked finger and beckoneth me onward.
Thou maketh me to forget to wash my face
until my crusted eyes forget to see where my feet troddeth.
Thou stoppereth my ears until the birds sing silently through days
and the toads roam through my nights without croaking.
Thou forgeteth to have me remember to turn out the lights
and the oven and the faucet and the sound of my heart beating,
so that they burn brightly to spilleth out over the shadow of my days,
burneth the roast until it’s crispy, flood over the floor of the life
left to me, left with a dirty sink and stoppered-up with bloody veins.
Thou maketh me old when it’s wise I prefer to be.
Thou maketh me silly when I would have chosen carefree.
Thou maketh me forget everything save worries without end
and sorrows that come to stay like beggars with nowhere else to go.
Derelict, they burrow in, snuggle down but never sleep.
Famished, they eat me from the inside out.
Who knew that Forgetful would move in, take the stage and insist
on being cast as Worry, the starring role in the farewell performance?
Who knew, in the opening act, that the play would be at least
as tragic as comic, and that the finger that beckoneth was deadly serious?
M L S Baisch © 2017