Rocking

ROCKING ———————————- Perhaps near you, too? Or You may have a memory Of a one separate soul To the side — Young and staring ahead, Or an elderly life Over by the windowed wall, Just beyond the group — Rocking …Not to any evident music; nor In a chair made for rocking; or, perhaps, Out on a porch’s wooden step; or maybe Sitting cross-legged nearby on the floor; Or away, almost unseen In a field of tall grass graced with sun; Rocking Immediately there on the edge Of a kitchen chair, rocking As constantly as breathing In and out… Not listening to the conversation? Thus, not caring, it seems, about us! Going on, on, gathering company From the tempo of rocking An interior transport To some degree of comfort, which (If we knew) we might Envy… But! (How, surely…impolite!) Right there! In our including Space, so out of place! As maddening as someone standing To crayon doodles On the chapel wall! Recalling rocking: The bright, lovely girl who did this Rocking, everywhere, even With her thumb in her mouth, Up to age 12. Oh, my! While adults kept snapping, “You’re not a Tot! Stop it!” At her from outside the motion Of her inner pendulum, In the rhythm of The seeking and keeping Peace…The ebbing and flowing of Peace…balancing gravity With hip-tipping inertia That keeps the rocking working On the aching, the trials, the noise… Rocking, so like Swimming the channel distance Of the hours spent between Here and There. Of night. Of day. Yet, to keep the dreams pouring forth …Rolling in while even awake… To refresh As with the quenching Power of Eucharistic wine For heaven’s flights within. Rocking centers the pulse; Clears thought; Calls on the soul; and may Find life inside lulling, To sing then string All the collected moments into A crystal necklace of Too rare calm. ———————————————————- 12/12/21. (c) sally young Eslinger Thanks be to God!