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Imperfect Life Full of Perfect Moments: Poem #4


POEM 4
By Lu Sobredo

INTRODUCTION
My thoughts have travelled far into the Leap Year. I started to write this poem on the night of February 29, 2020 and it greeted the first day of March.

My muse was relentless, it kept me writing for hours into the night and the next morning. I couldn't help but comply, as thoughts poured out like words imprisoned for eons, desperate to wake up from slumber.

Midnight in Barcelona, Spain. ©James Sobredo, 2016

Imperfect Life Full of Perfect Moments: Poem 4

Every now and then, I marvel
At earth’s elliptical revolutions around the sun,
And at how many there had been
Since first we met.

The passage of time chronicled
Early on in cards and letters we exchanged.
Ah, those precious letters,
They were kisses disguised as quiet conversations
In our hearts. I imagined them as having been written
Under the light of the moon
While at its perfect angular distance from the sun.  
Words and passages I’ve read out loud,
Eagerly leapt from the pages to the tongue, quenching thirst
When you weren’t around.

Those letters, as I read them now,
They are not typical of love letters.
Why then, would those words draw images
That take my breath away
Now, as they did then,
Decades before?

Is it possible to look back over the span of years?    
Perhaps to count how many sunrises
Felt like a warm embrace.
We hungered for more,
More of everything. More, out of life.

And when life takes too sharp of a turn
Throwing one of us or both sadly askew,
Dreams once brightly paved are dimmed.
The abrupt jolt makes for a cruel journey.
It hurts like cut glass shattering resolve. It pierces
The heart and threatens to break open the ground we walk on.
Wound so wide and deep, what could possibly mend it?

How many of life’s storms could love withstand?
One hopes never to find out, nor reach that breaking point.
A break, oh so permanent, it betrays
The promise of growing old together.
When doubts thrust into the soul like uncontrollable deluge,
All one could do is keep both hands pressed
Ever so tightly against the chest
To guard hope from spilling out and emptying the soul.

How could anything console
When doubts greet at the door and I can’t breathe?   
Because I can’t breathe without you.

Every now and then, I marvel
At the resiliency of the human soul. For when life’s
Darkest hours visit like an unwelcome guest,
You are with me.
And I am comforted by the warmth
Of a hand holding mine. While healing, we would feast
On sunsets and sparkling wine;
On seafood, jazz and gelato.

Is it possible to still dance under the stars
When age and affliction are unwilling enablers?     
Because I still desire movement.
Because long adventure rides still await you.
And I still fantasize
Impersonating a Mark Morris dancer.
Or at the very least, dance
As we did the day we wed.

Every day, I remember to forgive the wrong turns;
Even cherish the risks, reactions, and tough decisions made.
I am poised for many more tomorrows,
More sunrises and sunsets,
Slow dances, Chris Botti concerts
And walks on the beach when the moon is
At its perfect angular distance from the sun.

Every day, I give myself permission
To dig into our memory chest
Of the imperfect life we’ve lived so far,
So full of many perfect moments.
Humbled by it all.
Humbled by a universe that offers bountiful gifts,
Yet miserly takes like a thief.
Then, generously ignites courage to trust love.
That same brand of love has taken us
Through the Alps in Northern Italy,
To a stretch of the Pyrenees,
And the sands of Playa de La Concha
In San Sebastian, Spain where our hearts are at home.

Our imperfect life full of perfect moments.


Poem ©Lu Sobredo
Photo ©James Sobredo
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED





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