The Edge of Now by Mary Strong Jackson

The Edge of Now
by Mary Strong Jackson

I can’t reconcile what can’t be reconciled
don’t know what to do with this acknowledgment—shape it
into a pendant to albatross my neck. No one is innocent but what is innocence?
We dream and wake with plans, pursue impossible imaginings—
some succeeded—cleared forests, damned rivers,
downed buffalos

From tiny tots pulling over water glasses, we continue reaching
no matter or because of the cold rush down our bodies, no
matter what exceeds our grasp, we reach for more

My friend tells of pulling the trundle bed out for her daughter’s sleepover
first time since her little sister died who once slept there
they gasped at the shape of emptiness where the once small self
dreamed her dreams—shock and sorrow traversed
their bodies anew snagging memories
of sorrow and love entwined

Humans will be humans no matter the snag and pull
of collective memory. We each hold a ball of earth
our own mass to voodoo with sticks and spirits
poking pins in vulnerable spots and each other

I can’t reconcile what can’t be reconciled,
so I’ll pull a chair to the edge of now,
remove the albatross from all
our necks—I’ll try love,
silly and stale as this
sounds. Love,
for who and what
is now or has
been
I’ll let this love snag
memories knowing
love entwines
with sorrow