2892. Poetry: The Inheritance

By Jaime K. Reaser, Wild Life: New and Selected Poems, April 22, 2018

Photo: Jaime K. Reaser

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.

© 2013-2018/Jamie K. Reaser; In honor of Earth Day
Published in "Wild Life: New and Selected Poems
Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser