Monday, May 30, 2011

Memoir... of sorts (for Ian)

I read... a lot.  Every once in a while I read something which, even though the story line is different from mine, simply resonates on an almost under-skin level.  Ian Cron*s sort-of memoir carries that resonance for me.  I am not a prose writer, but I realize it*s what I want to do with the reflections I write, and why I started blogging in April.  It*s the preaching voice, I think.  And what better way to preach, than with our lives?

I want to walk down the street
So people see me
And say
You look familiar
Don*t I know you?
Haven*t we met?
Even if we*ve always lived
On opposite sides
Of the country.
Even though we*ve never met before,
I want them to recognize
The particular way
I favor my right foot
Pluck a blade of grass
Notice the wind blowing the pines
And that shimmy
They do.

I want to write so well
That people read it,
See themselves
Mirrored
Echoed
Common humanity
New possibilities
Formed,
Grace glimpsed.
Even for them
As much as for me.
That would be writing
Well enough
And then some.

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