It’s good, here with you
you in front
me in back
the dust behind us
You, with your backpack, green and hugging
your sweaty body as we chug
upwards
where even a rock or feather or piece of garbage
finds purchase because I say slow down, hold up, wait
so I can unzip the side pocket and stuff my treasure
or trash
or secret into that space and when I finish
when I store what I think needs keeping
I zip it closed, pat you on the shoulder and say
let’s go
And then, with the end nowhere in sight, I keep walking
and for a long time I wonder why I am here, now
with you, why you
why not someone else
someone else I know
And as I step forward I think about those people
I think about the friend who has stage 4 lung cancer but still knows Joy
And the friend who cooks me stew
I think about the friend who runs a non-profit
And the one who sent me flowers
I think about the friends who have lost their parents
who’d lost their pasts;
histories burned through by mitochondrial heat
I think about the friend who paints gentle landscapes
And the one who paints pain across a clean white sheet
I think about the friend who was once a lover
And the friend whose card never arrived
I think about the friend whose guide dog leads her through gardens in a distant land
And the friend whose daughter became a man
I think about the four friends I have who are doctors
Healing the sick, stemming the tide,
Catching babies with their gloved hands
As a dry wind rises to rinse the sweat from my neck
I think of my friends who work to change laws
And the friends who protect creatures who walk on all fours
I think of my friends who critique my words
And all the others who share their words
I think about the friend who adopted two babies
who have long since grown
And the friend in Peru sowing grief on her own
I think about a friend who shelters the homeless
And another who fixes computers
And another who sells computers
I think of my friend Igor
I think of the two lovelies I met in Mexico
As well as the friend who lives in Reno
And then
while stopping to retie my boots
I remember the friends I’ve had to let go
I think of a friend who works for a dentist
I think of my friend who is a dentist
I think of a friend who lost her two breasts
And the too many friends who have lost friends to death
I think of old friends who have since become new
The poet, the wealth manager, the Microsoft guru
And I think of the cousins who happen to be friends too
I think of my friend who writes stories for kids
And the one who buries the dead without cement lids
I think of the friend who at last found her one true love
Up ahead I see the lake, the sun spitting across its surface
Mayflies, alive for a second, crowding the luminous dermis
As we push ourselves toward the crest of the hill
I think of the friends I’ve never met
I see them I talk to them I write to them, yet
I have no idea how they smell
I’ve never watched them eat
I’ve never seen them walk into the room
I have no idea if they cross their legs while sitting or
If they pick at their cuticles while chatting on Zoom
I think of the many friends who have picked me up
As if I were a carelessly discarded gum wrapper or
a treasure; a pretty stone that is tucked into
the side pocket
zipped shut, safe
worthy enough to carry
like I carry them
once we leave the view from up high
and head back to the car.
So beautiful 🙂
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Hi.
It sure would be good having you here.
I hear that Victor is coming this summer amid other trips.
Loy will be heading to Santa Cruz.
And you?!
Tahoe? Or ?
xo
From: Lisa Kusel
Reply-To: Lisa Kusel
Date: Wednesday, April 14, 2021 at 10:44 AM
To: Susan Zlimen
Subject: [New post] Lost and Found
lisa_kusel posted: ” It’s good, here with you you in front me in back the dust behind us You, with your backpack, green and hugging your sweaty body as we chug upwards where even a rock or feather or piece of garbage finds purchase because I say slow down, hold “
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Hello, love. How are you? I miss you. Your poetry is really, really, really lovely. I have read Lost and Found three times so far, with more to come. Love it. Are you emerging from this unreal year? S
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Emerging? Not quite yet. Thank you for this most generous comment, SW. I miss you as well. I shall email you. xx
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Beautiful my friend. Simply beautiful. 🥰
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What a lovely metaphor and tribute! Thank you for picking me up off the ground even if I maybe wasn’t as shiny as some other rocks. 🙂
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What? But you ARE shiny. Oh so shiny.
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How lovely to see myself in your words. I never thought my work without cement lids would make its way into a fine piece of poetry, a mental list of gratitude for friendships past and current, and even future. You have a sharp sense of the order of things, my friend who lives across Alonzo on the lake.
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What a lovely comment, EF. Thank you.
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Wonderful poem! Thanks for sending. And thanks for the nod to old friend new, poet.
Hope all is well.
Jackie
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I’m always left wanting more. That’s a good thing, right? Friends who walk naked by tombstones…. Thank you giving we one more gift to add to my treasures.
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Yeah, I should have added that line. Darn. xx
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Beautiful! I am overwhelmed by gratitude for the little moments our lives are composed of
Thank you, Lisa
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Thank you, Lela.
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Beautiful.
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What a lovely little treasure!
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This is the best thing I’ve read in forever!!!
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In forever? You are the best.
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WOW. This is a magnificent poem. Thank you for sharing.
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MB, you make me so happy. Thank you.
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That’s a beauty Lisa xo
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Well this made me tear up. And miss all my people.
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