BETWEEN the LINES

It occurred to me as I sat down to write yet another newsletter, that I wasn’t sure what I was going to be writing about. My fingers were poised over the keys. I had the time. All I needed was – inspiration – something to write about, something worth writing about. And then, because inspiration is, well, fickle and may not answer when it’s called but rather, hurls itself at you, in totally unexpected ways, words came, thoughts came, and, what follows is, not where I chose to go but rather, where I was lead…

If you are anything like me, you are often struggling with the realities of life. There are too many bills to pay. There are too many obstacles to overcome. There are too many mistakes to be made, friendships to be squandered, time to be spent wishing there was more time. And recently, too much horrific news to bear.

Life is like that. Sometimes, it’s a party. Sometimes, it’s a wake. It is unrestrained joy. It is uncontained sorrow. And nobody gives you a “how to” manual at the starting gate. Nobody says, “No worries, mate, I’ll tell you how to do it. I’ll tell you what it’s all about.”

And, if somebody did try to tell you those things, either – you wouldn’t listen or, they really wouldn’t apply to you anyway. The fact is, to live a life, we must be able to see beyond what is, to what could be. We need to be able to feel our way through the darkness and know how to strut our stuff when the light comes on.

When you cross that starting gate, you truly believe that time is your friend. You believe you will grow up; you will grow strong; you will grow into the life you dream it will be. And then, suddenly (and I do mean suddenly) you are getting closer and closer to the finish line, and you’re looking back and you’re wondering… Did I do it all? Did I do it well? Did I do it right? Did I live in the passion of the words or, did I live between the lines? And the problem is compounded by the fact that when you really examine your life, you’re still not sure.

I like to think that the things I couldn’t do, I captured in the expelled breath of the poem. I like to think that passion was real, love was prodigious, and eternal, kindness and caring were a given, honor and loyalty were the sacred code and, when I face the final curtain, I will, with dignity, take a bow, and leave the stage without regrets.

I like to think I lived out loud. (Those who know me well might say, a bit too loud…) I like to think I walked the walk and talked the talk and took both credit and responsibility for who I was and how I shared my life with others.

I like to think I lived in the words that flowed, sometimes like blood, sometimes like fine wine, onto paper, from the time I was six until… Well, who knows when the final word will be written – who knows when the pen will run out of ink? And when I do, inevitably, slip between the lines, I would hope only that I left a bit of me behind – boldly on the page…


BETWEEN the LINES

Some say that life is like a flower
a seed that bursts into the beauty
of the rose and then
dissolves back
into the soil

some say that all of life is just
the noise and chaos
of the storm we ache we cry
we live we die and knowing why
was never in the contract
that we signed

some say that life
just is the bee busy
making honey doesn’t wonder
at the time of day the way
back to the hive is all that matters
the tree the storm tears
into tatters strains to burst
back into bounty
hoping to renew itself
for seasons yet to come

but we
undone by wondering
unsew the seams that hold
it all together strain against
both wind and weather
break the tether that would hold us
in a place we might
call home

no matter
who we know or who we love or who
we share our days with
in the end life is the loneliness
of stealth the onliness
of death I will
with dying breath
proclaim
I never wished
for life divine only prayed
to live my life
upon the page
not
between the lines…

Susan A. Katz (All rights reserved)

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