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680 Queen's Quay West
Suite 724
Toronto, Ontario
Canada M5V 2Y9

416-586-9669
michele@michelegeorge.com

 


I ONLY NEED TO SHOW UP

Michele George

The sun goes down in the wide screen frame
Of my generous living room window.
These days! Oh, life!
With a joyful play of gratitude for a day
Of luminosity
A gleeful symphonic eruption
Only once in all of time to be played
In this gathering of movements.
A coming attraction of tomorrow's
New Day.
The composer hunched,gathering notes
In urgent racing heartbeat panic,
Even as the conductor waves a magic wand,
    And a roar, ragged, smooth, jagged edges
Whisper
Beckoning.
A ululation,
    A belly laugh
        A chord of more nods and echoes
Than even God
Was ready for.

I watch as I dissolve
    Into the
        Hues
And cry.
I have no wish to hold on.
I marvel at this
Recognition.
    I feel grown up
        As a child dressed in secret
Having raided the beautiful mother's closet,
Dared to stand tall
    In high heels of some
        Creature who donated its
Breath
So its skin can cover mine
And raise me above the others.

Here comes the final moment,
    The climax
        The saffron, scarlet, fuschia
Whirled arpeggios
Outside my window
    Rise ever higher to the finality
Of evensong.

And I stroke the several minks,
    Each one
        Holding the tail of its next of kin
In a mouth
That once ate other foods.
I stroke the forbidden fur.

The music trembles
    Ever without my window,
With a force,
Death itself.
And I am
Unafraid,
    Although wrapped in ecstatic dread.

The swirls are now no longer shocked and stunning bursts
On the wide screen,
    But striations
Stretched
Wide, wider
And how can all this possibly
    Reach so far?
The end is in sight.
My eyes a camera
    Full of the sonority
Of a life well lived.
A chorale that was
Which holds my secrets
    All my sins
        My goodness
And my aching need.
My holiness,
Yes,
My profanity produced
Through years,
Eons of the sun going down.

But, oh, I thank thee, Lord,
    For this mirror I've been granted
        Cracks and all.
Oh, one more lie.
There is a tinge of sorrow.
I know I'd keep these sunsets if I could,
Locked in a box
    Pandora style.
Knowing the day would come
When they'd be
Unleashed
On an unsuspecting world.


Simone Weil

A beloved being who disappoints me.
People owe us what we imagine they will give us.
We must forgive them this debt.
To accept the fact that they are other than the creatures of our imagination
        Is to imitate the renunciation of God.
I also am other than I imagine myself to be.
To know this is forgiveness.


Watch A One Year Old

by Rumi

Anger rises when you're proud of yourself.
Humble that. Use

the contempt of others, and your
own self-regarding, to change, like

the dog-barking lion rather, enjoy
the hurt longer. Watch a one-year-

old, how it walks, the slow wisdom
there. Sometimes a sweet taste

makes you sour and mean. Listen
to the voice that says, "It was for

you I created the universe". Then
kill and be killed in love. You've

been two dogs dozing long enough!