Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Two--poem by Dorothy
Two
Yes, there is the exalted self.
The one that shines like the sun,
that rides clouds to glory,
converses with saints.
Then there is that other,
the quieter, less obtrusive one,
like a watcher that is always
hanging around,
waiting for the moment
to enter the house,
take over.
This one is filled with regret,
with a sense of repeated folly,
all the scars of the years,
the stumblings,
the blows given and received.
Sometimes they peer at each other
across the distances,
catch glimpses,
remember the presence that is there,
wonder,
Who I am?
Dorothy Walters
October 26, 2015
(picture by N. M. Rai)
