Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing… Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread… ~ Naomi Nye
It tells us
we have reached the point
where we can no longer continue without change,
without a new approach,
a new learning.
We have reached the limit of
our current ability.
It gives us a measure
of where we are today, and
how far we’ve come.
It is a limit without limiting,
a boundary without bounding.
To the extent we can see beyond our point of failure,
it shows us what we can be,
what we might be,
if we commit ourselves to
by doing better,
because we know better is out there
calling to us.
It doesn’t taunt or tease.
It bows our head in defeat
we stand on
is the starting line.
My goal in life is to retire
because the work I do no longer needs doing.
To become obsolete.
Walking the fields, strolling the sidelines,
and as far as I can see
children are playing:
determined and skillful, sweating and graceful,
completely exhausted, and deliriously happy.
No yelling. No carding. No injuries.
No knee braces. No ankle wraps.
No ice. No crutches. No splints. No ambulances.
No stoppage time.
Every game starting and stopping at the whistle,
according to the running clock.
Oh, there would be running.
And jumping and kicking and passing and shooting
And tackling and intercepting and tipping over the bar.
The game would go until the final whistle.
A winner named. A loser declared.
Players, both elated and defeated, celebrating
because they get to play again.
How I long to stand by and watch,
silent, smiling and unnecessary;
to hang up my cleats, stack my cones, closet my ladder and rings.
To take a seat and watch the children play,
as I was meant to do.
If I had my way,
I’d be out of a job.