Futurepassed Poem by Don Pearson

(To Elvina, my companion along the roads we did take, and to Eldon and Alexanna, whom I love so dearly that they must find their own way, without a map.)


(ii)
The path we might have taken,
so many years ago,
could dazzle with beguilement.

Do you remember,
that thundery morning,
that August day,
the path we did not find,
towards my orchard, to my haven,
towards your dance of empowerment,
towards our freedom?

Had we but been together,
had we but shared then
each other’s thoughts,
had we both known
that each had sought
the hidden way,
had we but talked
and climbed the stile,
had we but not been given a map,
had we but drawn it ourselves,
had the lightning
not struck us dumb
and riven us in ways
we only now can heal,
had we but been
what we are now,
oh, what then?

At that distance, still less at this,
We could not see the twists, the turns,
the hidden forks on that missed trail,
the thorns or blooms,
the apples, wormy or not, ripe or sour,
never feel the tango’s thrill,
the broken ankle’s pain.
Those unmade choices
never send reports of pain or joy,
of love or death, of birth,
of hidden years unfolding.
Can we regret the holiday,
we never knew we missed?
Can we take joy from
the car that did not knock us down
on the road we didn’t cross
because we were in another city,
doing different jobs?

The people we have known,
loved, befriended, borne, hated,
travelled alongside,
those glorious children,
they were not down that long-lost path,
or may have been,
or maybe were different,
somehow out of step with us
or out of time.

What we are now,
what we know now,
for good, for bad, for all,
has been gleaned on our paths,
chosen moment by moment,
time upon time again.
We have made choices
as best we could,
for the best motives,
that have led to hurt,
for ourselves, for others.
Some wrong or selfish paths
may have led to good.
Each decision has made waves,
ripples on our pond,
causing or preventing
tsunami elsewhere, or not.
Each link we have made
has broken or made
links in other chains, or not.
Out and beyond,
we affect lives we don’t know,
in ways we can’t suspect,
by means we can’t control.

(i)

I have followed route maps,
walked with others
or wandered by myself,
taken turns that have pained
those I least want to hurt,
sometimes helped those
I should least want to help.
Through wrong turns more than right,
I have learned enough,
or am still too foolish,
to take or ignore
the good advice I give to others,
as they adopt or disdain
the common sense
they would pass to me.
I now take the paths I choose,
the paths I think are right,
with a map that is mine,
that only shows direction,
scrawled by me in my own code,
not drawn for me
or for someone else.
I try to find courage
to show my fear,
strength to show my weakness.

I pick my way through bushes,
breaking branches,
tearing my hands,
feeling love,
wounding my soul,
seeing wonders.
I try to clear spaces
for others to join me,
hoping they will,
if they choose.
The branches I must discard
for others to trip over
tomorrow or in thirty years,
or not at all.

We are our past.
I cannot see clear futures
but I see less, those we passed.

29th Aug 2001