Random Musings From the River Valley: Paper Crafting, Mixed Media, and Random Thoughts

The Hands That
Waved Farewell

by Patricia Goedicke

Hands that have waved farewell
Meaning, we will meet again,

Cities I had thought lost forever
That have returned to me,

Sooner or later I will see them again, the mountains
The white coffee cup beside my plate

Steaming in the cold, as suddenly solid
As the most miraculous happening

In the whole world, it is a gift
That is given to everyone, yes

Everyone:
The patterns of our lives

Repeat themselves, like the old woman
Who keeps looking into your eyes from a window

Right next to the tracks as the train passes
On its way to forgotten farmhouses,

The strict pine trees of New Hampshire
Like night watchmen in the snow . . .

For me it was a small town in Mexico
Flamboyant, full of flowers

Lying on a hillside with the moon
And bittersweet stars in its hair

But for me also it was the one man,
I did not recognize,

At every turning point in my life
Like a small pony he would be standing there

Like an armchair with a cello in it, or a brook
He kept beckoning to me like the sun

Or a coffee cup, full of warmth
Until I accepted him, so that now

In the thick snows of New Hampshire,
In the dry deserts of Mexico

Over and over I keep finding them
Rustling in the wind like leaves,

Like growth rings in the book of trees
Hands that have waved farewell,

Cities I had thought lost forever
That have returned to me.