Two Prose Poems

May 31, 2021

Lifework

The assignment was to find a photograph that spoke to my identity.  The only one I could find, the only one I kept going back to, was a favorite taken by my husband up on Skyline Drive in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. 

The image is completely candid and unposed, but also artful, my head literally in the clouds, my husband having spotted the unusual angle.  This juxtaposition is incredibly apropos since I wander there often (not at all lost), thoroughly at home in contemplation, an active seeker who sorts her life experience through the written word.

I love a wide vista, a glimpse of the grandeur, because I am often lost in the details, unable to perceive the forest for the wood under hand.  In the photo I am bundled up against the cold and very serious, laser-focused on capturing the view with my phone as if it contained insider information on the workings of creation (which is does) —  when really, it is simply a form of documentation, which I now believe to be my life’s work. 

Because I have no children, I am compelled to draw a finger through time’s wet cement, pressing more than my palm and initials to a monument of words and pictures I have been compulsively building my entire life — that testify to my presence, giving voice to a life in a specific time. 

So this will be my mark – not my DNA flowering in my children’s children, but an era’s proof, as enumerated by journals, photographs and writings spanning a lifetime — a body of work, such as it is — knowing full well it will most likely be lost to future lives just as eager to make their own mark —  without regard for what came before.

The Alum Who was also an Employee

I am deeply grateful these days that my years of career strife and striving are complete. I have a friend who stays abreast of all the latest institutional news, gossip and outrage, but I remain blessedly detached, even indifferent — for this is no longer my fight:  “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”  The same issues, politics and drama we wrestled with will cycle back through as they always do, often spinning to the vortex of money (or lack thereof) — both personal and institutional.

“That’s the 3rd study they’ve done to expand that facility…”

“Can you believe they promoted him at that salary…?”

“We invested millions to accommodate that piece of equipment and now it’s not being used…?”

“Can you believe that unit is now reporting to her…?”

“Why do faculty always receive better raises than staff…?”

So thankful none of this rides on my shoulders, stirring up my gut.  It was all so important but ultimately temporary.  We shepherd and transact until it’s time for the next generational hand-off.  Meanwhile the institution will survive and even thrive, enduring the mistakes and improving from the forward-thinking of its current caretakers, until their time too, is complete — so that the cycle may continue.