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Posted in Poetry

Watched pots? 

I’m glad I did not meet you then,

Back when I thought I knew the things

I thought I knew.

Pshaw, we would have been a mess,

No solid bond with much ado.

The things that I thought were the things I knew

Were only shadows cast in the glow of the

Coming lessons I would learn,

That I couldn’t have learned

If we were two.

You would have been the loveliest distraction then,

But now, where is it that you are,

And who?

Those things I needed to learn, I learned.

That I did not know?

I know.

For example,

I know that a watched pot never boils,

Watched cookies take longer to bake,

And when I’m on a slow trail walk, and

A man ahead,

Whose sagging jeans, and kind demeanour,

He waved–

Remind me of my father,

Tragically gone–

That I will cry,

Longing for him,

All the way back to the car.

That’s a given.

You will have your own peccadillos–

Whatever they are, I won’t judge.

Let’s say, you love to watch pots of water come to a boil.

I will get you a chair,

So you won’t have to stand for eternity,

And if there is someone you loved who died,

I will look away from the kettle so to

Boil quick water for tea,

And never ask you how long it has been.

Another thing I know:

Time doesn’t heal.

Time only reminds you of how long you’ve been missing

Whomever it is your missing,

That you thought that you weren’t missing.

It is your friends who help your healing.

And friends are also good for making tea,

And getting chairs,

And making cookies well ahead of time,

And reminding you that “peccadillo,”

Has nothing to do with appetizers.
I wonder though, if the appearance of you,

My sought after, one Anam Cara,

Is bound by the same rule as the boiling water?

Is your absence,

Your yet-to-show,

Only a function,

Predictably stopped by my foolish attention?

Perhaps I will simply live,

Exist with the loss and love that I have–

Not keep looking for you,


But trust that you will show.

This, I think I know.