Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Newton Smith––Enough of This––poem
Enough of This
Enough of this—names, titles, roles—
all the bits and pieces
that shored up this self
now crumbling beyond repair.
Let them go.
Watch the memories
and moments
spill like beads
from a broken string
too worn to knot again or replace.
One thing after another,
once piled up like a barricade
against who knows what.
Books, concepts, causes,
travels or acquired tastes—
all futile fumblings
for something to hold on to,
each a willful distraction
from what is happening now.
What matters in this moment?
Not these words but
the wind whistling,
the empty sky, the smell
and touch of grass,
and the clear taste
of water from this glass.
- Newton Smith
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