Parochialism Reconsidered

I don't have to look at any of this.
The wars, the world's various
Troubles, take place far away
From me. The shootings on the
City's streets, though nearer,
Still are out of sight, as are
The malls, the restaurants
And wine shops glossy
Couples from the suburbs
Haunt. A woman, also from
The suburbs, not so glossy,
Holds my heart as she eats
Ice cream with her friends
In an apartment I can't see.
I should have kept that organ
Home, where I am sitting
By myself, a stark and frigid
Winter landscape sprawled
Outside in front of me. My
Wife of more than thirty years,
Who has possession of all of me,
But for my unruly heart,
Will be home soon. We'll
Sit and talk, a dumpy older
Couple in a not-unpleasant,
Ancient rut. Our children
Will appear at times with
News from their restricted
Realms, and chatter, laughter.
When they've gone, and my
Wife's in another room, I'll
Pause again to ask myself
Why I let my eyes search
The world beyond what's
Near and good enough.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 47 times
Written on 2015-12-16 at 13:50

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