My Vocation

So many poets write of pain,

of day brimming with troubled thoughts,

and I can’t.  I have been spared,

lived a life mostly full of grace,

or at least when difficult

it was something I managed,

or imagined that I was managing.

I was at at peace-- and even better--

with my parents as they slipped away,

have no quarrels with my brother,

still live with my wife,

and a miracle-- talk to my children.

The intimations of mortality

have presented themselves, as they will;

a folly to deny-- and yet--

they are still in the wings,

seemingly not ready for their cue,

and so it must be my duty

to tell the other story,

to wake and witness wonder,

to sing and shout thanks,

and that is what I propose

as long as pencil finds paper.