Know This – an #improv #poem

Waves wafted,
barely visible
in the golden
lamp light
of that
winter morning.

Technically,
it was Spring.
But you never
would have
known it

with the season-strange
snowfall sifting
silently groundward.
We had been
such a world of
separateness and
polarizations.

Meanwhile, the
winds and air
were not cold enough.
So, the clouds
shifted from
mini-icicles to
pure rain.

We were being
pelted more by
coronavirus
than by the
rain, though.

In all of my
experience
on this earth,
I have never seen
the entirety of
humanity become
such a

nation of
captured imagination.
However much the
beginnings of this
visualization had
been negative,

the midst of
staying physically
distant seems
more like a
time of wonder.

Those of us
who expect
things to be
perfect
must now face
the growing
expanse of
imperfection.

Each story I hear
is filled with
surprise and
expectation around
how essential our
social connections
are.

Did we somehow
manage to hide this
inner truth
from ourselves?

Did we bustle to work
so quickly and indulge
in the distractions there
so deeply that
the ways each
human encounter
bless us were
escaped and
ignored?

I do not know —
given the sad
idiosyncrasies of
human ways of
being —

if we will remember.

Perhaps if I anchor
this in my memory
or etch it in a poem,
I will somehow
maintain this
inspired piece
of knowledge.

As much as I
matter to me,
I know now that
you matter to me
(however differently)
just as much.

When this is all
over,
don’t hesitate
to remind me.

Save a link to
this poem and
send it back
to me.

Maybe attach
a simple note
like this:

“You cannot
underestimate
the worth
of your friends,
family, coworkers,
acquaintances,
and even
the strangers

along the way.
For you never
know which
one
will be a
mirror
for you
today.”

~ spontaneously composed by Stan Stewart
~ Copyright © 2020 by Stan Stewart and muz4now, inc. All rights reserved.