For more self-descriptions by Sunday Scribblers, click here or on banner at left.
This poem was written in the year 2000. Since then I have aged in a multitude of ways. I am confined to a wheelchair, have been ill any number of times, am in pain much of the time with all the problems associated with pain control. Am I happy? Yes, almost always, blessed with children who not only take superb care of me, but who are also delightful company. My only sadness is mourning my dear Otto. I love my new little house and am enjoying redecorating and furnishing it. I am surrounded by music, both live, due to my talented son Otto and beloved daughter-in-law Kristin, who live just acrosss the street from me.
I THOUGHT THE WORLD WAS MINE
I thought the world was mine.
I thought that I could swim in any ocean.
Clouds below were my familiar landscape.
How could I know that wings that carried me
would be landlocked, horizons shrink and borders close forever?
It’s my life that you circumscribe.
I miss my world!
Your oil is running short; so too my years
and I am bitter with thwarted expectations.
I know that somewhere children starve.
Their eyes rebuke my selfishness.
But oh! I want my steaming jungles, jangle
of unknown tongues, smells of roasting coffee,
lights of a city never seen before that mark
a thousand homes in each of which
I live a lifetime
for a moment.
Phyllis Sterling Smith revised September 11, 2000