Lucia Cherciu
Given Another Chance
The storm gives advice in the maple tree outside, clutters
the yard with broken branches, loose limbs, abandoned
ambition. Preaches obduracy. Send me some faith,
you said. Given another chance, I would
make a meal for all the hungry guests over the years.
Given another chance, I would have said yes
to all the invitations for a walk, to a group lunch
with my dissertation director. Given another chance,
I would sit down to revise. Lucreazǎ pe text,
one of my favorite teachers used to say,
as in work on the text, keep revising, make changes.
The storm gives advice in the maple tree outside,
clutters the yard with demands, lies, excuses.
Given another chance, I would open the window
to get fresh air in the meeting room. Given another
chance, I would spend two hours a day giving praise,
noticing the glint on the maple tree leaves.
Send me a notebook, you said. Maybe this season
I should buy ten notebooks and send them
to friends who feel abandoned, broken, left out.