I Had Forgotten How to Live
By Jane Tawel
March 12, 2020
I had, too long, forgotten how to live.
And letting Time control my thoughts,
And taking more than I could give,
I had forgotten what I aught
pay heed to more than I should not.
And then one day while waiting
And slow-drip coffee, hating,
I stood beside my own back door
And heard a bird song, me, implore,
to stop and listen, look, and find,
because to beauty, I’d been blind.
There, just there, in my back yard,
Were little birds, like crossing guards,
Directing me to safety in,
The joy that could be found within,
The world at large, and lives at small,
If I would simply sense it all.
I think I hadn’t really lived,
Or taken time to sense and breathe,
Not since I was a little kid,
And for lost years, I now did grieve.
But rather than waste one more day,
Determined I to savor,
To listen well, and learn to play,
And find a Mother’s favor.
Oh, I’d forgotten how to hear,
And how to truly see.
But though I wasted life and love,
Life still believed in me.