What I Should Have Done

I begin these poems from journal entries
made in small, black books before I noticed
time flowing by me faster than a rapid river.
Now I return to learn the wisdom for the day
by dipping fingers in the moving water 
of what went under the bridge so long ago.

I dance with suffering servants
who have come down from their cross.

I laugh with laughing, fat monks carrying
bags of gifts over their shoulders.

I bring other divines together to see
how close they lay upon one another.

I do all of this to discover once again
that there is nothing on the other side
of wishing for what I should have done.

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