So Far
This is a little something I dug up and resurrected from the deep, back in 1997, actually, LOL....
I am
almost there,
where I can turn
in the sunshine,
wearing a grin, and
stop.
And laugh at the journey
I've taken so far.
The journey--
But how did it start?
From the starting blocks
at swim practice--
Did I warm up enough
for the race of my life?
Did they teach me that
holding my breath, blowing bubbles
while I flip-turn would thrust me
into my journey so far?
The journey--
But when did it start?
From the tape marks
on the lighted stage at rehearsal--
Did I practice enough
for the play of my life?
Did they teach me that
staying in character, singing
while my hat fell off would twirl me
into my journey so far?
The journey--
But where did it start?
From the cutout names
stuck on weathered doors at check-in--
Did I study enough
for the class of my life?
Did they teach me that
sneaking out trays and
sledding down hills
while cutting class would tease me
into my journey so far?
I am
not quite there,
where I can turn
in the moonlight,
pick day's smell from my hair
with my fingers and
Stop.
And recline into the
rest of the world,
smile at the journey
I've taken so far.
Written by Eliza Jane Farley (Gomez)
Spring 1997
I am
almost there,
where I can turn
in the sunshine,
wearing a grin, and
stop.
And laugh at the journey
I've taken so far.
The journey--
But how did it start?
From the starting blocks
at swim practice--
Did I warm up enough
for the race of my life?
Did they teach me that
holding my breath, blowing bubbles
while I flip-turn would thrust me
into my journey so far?
The journey--
But when did it start?
From the tape marks
on the lighted stage at rehearsal--
Did I practice enough
for the play of my life?
Did they teach me that
staying in character, singing
while my hat fell off would twirl me
into my journey so far?
The journey--
But where did it start?
From the cutout names
stuck on weathered doors at check-in--
Did I study enough
for the class of my life?
Did they teach me that
sneaking out trays and
sledding down hills
while cutting class would tease me
into my journey so far?
I am
not quite there,
where I can turn
in the moonlight,
pick day's smell from my hair
with my fingers and
Stop.
And recline into the
rest of the world,
smile at the journey
I've taken so far.
Written by Eliza Jane Farley (Gomez)
Spring 1997
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OK, y'all have been kind enough to "hear me out"& n stuff, so let me know whatcha think, if I've rattled yer cage, voiced a shared thought or concern, or if you're gonna attain Enlightenment upon reading these DEEP THOUGHTS, or if ya think I'm just plumb WACKO--but please be decent in your expression of your sentiments, there's no need to sling mud, unless we're in POTTERY CLASS or at the BEACH! Thanks for reading n stuff...Laters!