Arriving at Now

I made some substantial changes to the leaving poem I’d been working on (previously called Taking Flight) so I thought I should post the final version just to set the record straight so to speak.

Arriving at Now

Sometimes, it seems we wake and find

we’ve spent whole months

or lives, looking always ahead,

as if life, to be lived

is around a corner somewhere

and now is nothing

But this at last is now.

This is you, the girls you know,

and friends, family in a bright hall

on a spring morning; a last collective

of story and memory, the classroom doors

closed behind you.

This is the moment at the end of waiting

you standing and singing together once more,

the wall of windows, trees and light.

Look at how real it all seems suddenly,

everything so vivid and so clear.

It’s now.

It’s late light

on a dark flock of birds,

and when they turned away

the sun came all on them

and their wings were broad and white

and they shone separately.

What summary can we make

for those impatient for a moral?

Things change? We grow wings?

You leave with our love, even our envy,

the unfixed future, the pattern-less sky

to fill with your own clear lines.

This is not a morning for conclusions.

You are moving on, the signs are good:

the ivy is in glossy leaf,

ti-tree in its fine white flower,

Now throw those glass doors open.

Warrick Wynne


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