The moon
hung like a tear
above the horizon
my eyes
followed you
moving
into the moonlight
my gaze held fast
until there was nothing
no warning
of the bitter cold
setting upon my world
your last kiss
now remains
forever on my lips
*
rob kistner © 2023
Poetry at: d’verse
W hen I consider giving thanks, so much of what I feel seems laced with a tinge of expectation. I have so much in my life that falls invisible to me in the day to day. I feel, even in my 77th year, that I have much to learn about true thankfulness.
Perhaps growing up in this American land of plenty-plus-more, has dulled my sense of what it means to be mindfully thankful. Yes, I feel happiness at times, but is that thankfulness? I seem always in search of an understanding of that authentic feeling.
There’ve been times, like this past pandemic, that’ve drawn me closer to catching a glimpse of genuine gratitude. I have immense gratitude that my wife’s throat cancer was caught in time to give her hope for a longer life. I am grateful that my doctors caught my brain disease of the white matter in time to help me significantly slow its progression towards dementia.
Life delivers challenges, but I am grateful that my family has the great fortune of being able to seek and receive help and support to face these stumbling blocks. So perhaps what I am most grateful for is the realization that, while I am beginning to understand and feel gratitude, I still have much to learn in this matter — and that I am fortunate to still have the chance to do so.
Original DDE™ surrealistic art: “Family Table”
by: rob kistner © 11/20/23
Happy Thanksgiving
*
rob kistner © 2023
Poetry at: dVerse