Another month, another poem. When all is said and done, as I look back on my achievements — and lacks thereof; the list of unfinished goals — this column is one thing I will not regret. It reminds me to exercise my love of verse. To spare some minutes for a cherished pursuit. I have too long forsaken my songwriting passion. Too easily ignored other beloved penchants, the dreams and druthers that shape who I am. It is these glaring omissions that plague me most as Time courses too swiftly past.
But I will not waste a second of what remains on remorse, pity, or self-blame. Compunctually, whatever mistakes and poor choices were made — whatever misery befell, disaster struck — it is too late to change. I can only rethink my present and future. This is all I have left. I prefer to spend it recouping, recovering, reveling and rejoicing. Not rehashing, reliving, regretting. I can only try to do better. Try to aim for the road I should have taken. Following my heart.
THE SILENT RESONANCE OF REGRET
Take my advice, don’t listen
Don’t heed the call
To spend your years near the coast
When you love the forest
Don’t plant your feet on the ground
If your spirit yearns to fly
And don’t, for anyone’s sake, even your own
Look back at the end of Life
To realize you haven’t lived
No one could ask that of anyone
Regret is a bitter lesson
That gnaws us through and through
Yet some regret must be swept aside
Neither felt nor spoken
For it is the good not the bad to be reaped
Sometimes springing as a bright result
And this is what we should cling to
However rocky the path
Or steep the ascent
It is the lesson to learn
Regret can resonate in silence
Or shriek loudly through our lips
It can chew us up and spit us out
For breakfast, lunch, or dinner
Yet will never let go
It can turn us into who we are not
Who we would never become without it
Therefore do not succumb
Do not be drawn in
To its voracious maw
Ignore that enticing resonance
Or it will guide your steps
It will sharpen your tongue
To speak what should remain unspoken
Then tie it in knots
When words might heal
The wounds inflicted
Do not yield to that vibrant song unsung
Or you will spend the rest of your years
Deeply regretting it.