By Sarah Brown Weitzman
Featured Art: Paris Bridge by Arthur B. Carles
To live in the moment is probably good advice.
What else is there but the now
of which nothing will remain but memory
already fading and unreliable.
My past is a pile of losses: parents, pets,
childhood, a hometown, ideals, and god.
Born to a countdown yet I make claims
to “my this” and “my that.”
But what can we ever possess?
Last night’s symphony, the blurred faces
of our dead, the way the wind slid
through the dogwoods of youth
are what we may possess just as the sun
possesses the windowglass it shines through.
Sarah Brown Weitzman, a past National Endowment for the Arts Fellow in Poetry and twice nominated for the Pushcart Poetry Prize, has had poems published in hundreds of journals and anthologies including New York Quarterly, North American Review, Rattle, New Ohio Review, Verse Daily, Mid-American Review, Poet Lore, Potomac Review, Miramar, Spillway, and elsewhere. Her books are available from Main Street Rag Publishing Company and Amazon.
Originally published in Issue 19.