Thursday, January 8, 2009

I Want To Matter (The Anthropology of Living)

In the woods, just off the C&O Canal,
a derelict house stands like an old tree about to fall.
My friends enter and climb the steep and dark staircase;
I stay outside (too many fears in there).
Signs of an old life are found in a strip of wallpaper.
Pink roses on yellow with a white lattice,
once brilliant on a sturdy wall, sun shining on it
through the window pane - a lovely room for someone.
The wallpaper is brought down the stairs to me
and I look at it in the stark winter forest light.
For these brief moments, the mystery
of the inhabitants' lives mean something to us.
We form their ghosts in our minds, and I lay the wallpaper
back in the house with a nod of respect.

What remnants will remain of me?
Who will I matter to when my wallpaper peels off the walls?

I Want To Matter

In 200 years when none of this matters, I want it to matter
My young life in full swing, no kids and a rock band
I can hear a Divine voice in my creativity; I know it is good.
Am I wrong for not wanting these days to ever end?

I want everything I experience to count for something.

Like the ache in my heart when I watch
the birds at the kitchen window feeder.
Little robot heads looking side to side,
their daily business an important matter.

Or crying over finding my dog
after her second time ever running away, spooked by a firework
The comfort of my life broken for those twenty minutes of hunting for her,
such unadulterated relief in my tears when she returns,
which she licks excitedly from my face.

Like listening to an old friend from Austin
sing on a CD in West Virginia, the miles and time between us
spilling out onto the table in front of the stereo.

Everything I do is important, even the simplest of things.


This year, I will pay close attention to the messages and lessons in every experience, good or bad, big or small.

What are you thinking about differently in the New Year?

2 comments:

Logan said...

That is a great poem, Larissa! Very powerful and clever.

Larissa said...

Thanks, Logan, for the comment. It's nice to know people are out there reading my blog. I appreciate the complement!