Once-in-a-lifetime -- How compact
How now-or-never and I the little fatalist
too literal, missed the specialness
heard it only as a door slammed shut
a visitor left on the welcome mat 
open-mouthed.  Or the rush of sash windows
in free fall, when the cord frays
Can't you hear its all about luck and loss?
I cried over all lost things. My grey wool gloves
missing that winter of '59. Saint Anthony
recovering them in June, Too late -
the moment passed.  Hope so readily bruised
when faith, its foundation, fractures, 
falling like hail on psyche, mawkish and make-believe 

But because nothing is just once and forever
(except birth, and then death of course)
I grew into a lifespan of unfastened doors
windows held up too, on outlooks
often w i d e r
        fresher    
              clearer
than I could ever hope for

and in my dressing table drawer
(where Saint Anthony hears the forager's prayer)
there are winter gloves galore

though none are grey.

29 thoughts on “Hope for the Fatalist”

1. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this awesomely written piece, Laura 👍

   1. thank you for such high praise

      1. It’s my pleasure. Have a lovely day and week ☺️

2. This was so much of a journey into all that life is in once in a lifetime is where you find life with all its ups and downs… love how you returned to those wintergloves tying it all together.

   1. yes this was a bit of whirlwind lifetime – thanks Bjorn

3. An awesome poem indeed, Laura! I am familiar with the ‘rush of sash windows, in free fall, when the cord frays’ and crying over lost things, so this one hit  the spot. I especially love the final stanza, the hope in the three-word movement of wider/fresher/clearer. I have a bag full of winter gloves – no grey!

   1. thank you Kim and for the prompt especially as I was unsure as to whether or not I had covered the instructions

      1. Always a pleasure, Laura.

4. It felt like reading a lifetime in this amazing poem, Laura. Beautiful.

   1. ahh Robin, thank you for reading and leaving such a heartening comment

5. What a wonderful piece of writing Laura – I love – ‘My grey wool gloves missing that winter of ’59. Saint Anthony recovering them in June, Too late -‘ and then coming full circle 💕

   1. thank you for your very encouraging words

      1. 💕

6. This unique poem can only be written from someone who has lived it! Very well evoked and I smiled at the last line…guess we need to come around to non grey gloves…lol Much Love~ 🧡

   1. yes there is always Bio in our writings more or less – so glad you enjoyed it enough to even smile – thank you

7. love this !!

   1. ❤️

8. I love the full circle nature of your beautifully crafted poem – so clearly written from experience. We should all be foragers.

   1. many thanks Freya – full circle and an up note- u usual for me 🙄

9. Beautifully crafted, Laura, a lifetime in full circle. I especially love the sensory experience (sight, sound, and movement) of “the rush of sash windows in free fall.”

   1. thank you for noticing those subtleties Merril

      1. You’re welcome, Laura.

10. “Hope so bruised….

    …..than I could ever hope for”

    wow….wow!!

    1. I love the linkage you created in your comment – thank you

11. read twice. Loved twice. Sat up straighter and really read. What a beautiful composition Laura. Melodic and memorable. How well you did this. Thanks

    1. melodic and memorable – lyrical lines and so very much appreciated – thank you Selma

12. Love it. Your Saint Anthony memories weave the spell

    1. that’s good to hear John / many thanks

13. Lost and found…that is the story, isn’t it? (K)

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