BOTH OF US

We editorialize
Suffering -- merely a plastic bag
Dented by wind, crusht,
Can seem to slowly
Lift an edge
As if the wind were carefully
Turning an invalid
An angel’s hand slipping
Under a head too heavy now

To raise the mere thing
Like a ribcage flattened
Then full in turns, ripping
Past the windshield snatched
by sacred air

A being already beyond us
As we, mired so complacently

And gratefully in the midst
Of life, barely dare

To realize how the wind ministers
To us, pours over us, attends
To our thinning hair, our

Thoughts slackening
With the tide

O the care
The care we are capable of
As we hurry by

A bag lifted above the traffic
One of us finally free

Leaving us
Enraptured.

Copyright © 2009 Gene Berson All rights reserved.