I am arriving where I can say, “I see
some sense to my life.” The past
making sense in ways that only
time reveals. The vision a reward,
the reward unabashed in what it gives.
The sense of right and wrong the trail
of a snake leading out through
some eastern gate of a paradise that
doesn’t exist. A tolerance I would not
have given myself ten years ago.
I am ambiguous about the word “regret.”
I’ve had a few utterly true and useful.
I know how moments were fulcrums
opening and closing doors I could not,
like Psyche needing help to overcome
the tasks Aphrodite had given her.
Now, I see my mis-interpretations,
see now what I was blind to,
no longer hearing “this is this and
that is that” that echo forming a harmony.
Something like forgiveness enters,
some alchemical transformation
changing ignorance into knowledge,
the promise of the beginning of wisdom –
possibly next year – when I turn seventy-two.
-Byron Hoot
hootism: freedom without responsibility is anarchy.
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