Sometimes I’m sorry not to be able to remember my own beginning
I do remember a few fleeting moments at age three or four – maybe even at age two
But not even enough for a short poem
Not even enough to sweeten the morning coffee
Not even enough to light my Uncle Al’s cigar
If only I could remember all the way back to the first day, that would be more than enough
‘It’s not necessary to dial the one – please hang up and try your call again’
‘To leave a call back number press five’
‘Press two for more options’
Too many interruptions…too many eruptions
Too many explosions in the coffee shops in Iraq
or on the bus in Jerusalem
or at the mall in Tucson
No wonder I can’t remember the beginning
There’s too much happening in the middle
too much happening in the New York Times
too many books reviewed
too many obituaries (too many with birthdates after mine
Now there are times I wish I could forget more –
forget about all the explosions
forget that the universe is expanding
forget that the polar ice cap is melting
forget that time is fleeting
No wonder I can’t remember the beginning
I should be glad about that
I should be glad to be here in this hour
I should be glad to have been here at all.
Beginnings by Rev. Frank Hall
