1826. Poetry: Inheritance

By Jaime K. Reaser, April 26, 2015

The Inheritance

I open the door to the world every morning,

anticipating, wondering

who will be the first to greet me
as I step onto the earth with eyes still soft
from dreaming.

Will it be pine, or pine warbler?

Who will be beside me

when I kneel at the pond,

walk through the wood,

cross the meadow?

Will I notice them?

Will they notice me?

Never are my days lived alone.

Never are my breaths less than

an exchange of breaths with some

other soul.

Everything wants to be known.

So, for awhile each day, I tend to this

mutual desire for belonging,

Saying, “Hello pretty girl,” to the doe.

stroking the pussy willows.

meditating beside a frog.

This is how I apprentice to love, 

and learn to speak those forgotten words

that acknowledge every living thing 

as a simple miracle.

When the day comes that my body

no longer needs to walk out the door

in order to know this fine world,

I pray that some young person is

stepping across their threshold,

taking a deep breath in the morning air,

and realizing,

this is my inheritance.

© 2013-2015/Jamie K. Reaser; In honor of Earth Day

Published in Wild Life: New and Selected Poems (www.hiraethpress.com)