“We have known them all already,
known them all”. Thus, we measure lives,
abandoned hopes, laments, even sighs.
We have heard them all already,
the prayers that remain unanswered
behind bolted doors, darkened rooms.
This anguish over being here and not
here is all too familiar, but like innocent
children, we still look toward times
when we eagerly open holiday boxes
and find surprises no longer there,
but manage to smile anyway, bottle up
a “No thank you,” and move on to other
boxes, only to find feigned familiar
joy that those are still the wanted toys.
Like uncertain weather marked in the sky,
we move on, unchartered, with the flux,
like all things plotted begin then end.
—Albert B. Casuga
Prompt: Like the sky that’s often mistaken for weather;/ and the world beneath it going where it goes. ---From “Familiar” by Luisa A. Igloria, Via Negativa, 06-23-11, http://www.vianegativa.us/2011/06/