Maggie Smith’s poetry is good. Here’s one I like a lot.
—
Past
by
What is the past?
We needed a word for everything before.
See how my saying this is already there, and there
for good—no fishing it out of that deep water,
the deepest there is. The past is a tide that drags out
but won’t return to shore: even your question
has been carried off. Look, you can see it floating.
Anything heavier settles unseen like wreckage
for a silver ribbon of fish to slip through.
The past is not all distant. We can stand at its edge,
watching the waves do the backbreaking work
of pulling, pulling away. From the shore, the past
seems to go on forever, because it does. We say
it was a different time, but all times are different.
this one, for instance. And again, this one.
—
I’d love to hear from you. I want to know what you think. Did you like this poem? Did any part of it resonate with you? Let me know.