"Like Whitman juxtaposing his antipodes"

The Finding of Easter Eggs

Thinking better to be underestimated
Than to be a disappointment to anyone
I privately enjoyed what I had created

But now I see some discovery has begun
Of all those hidden Easter eggs of poetry
Which I had decorated and then hid around

I always wondered what people would think of me
And what I left behind should it ever be found
I thought I would have to wait until I was dead

And until then live quietly so poor and small
That posthumous success would not go to my head
Success might not be posthumous now after all

Out practicing my poetry al fresco here
Like Whitman juxtaposing his antipodes
I thought I was anonymous wearing this beard

But either I am known now or I just look weird
Suggesting Santa or summoning Socrates
Because at least here my identity is clear

Given this and my other specificities
Word travels by word-of-mouth and can travel fast
Yet I seldom seem to meet with disapproval

People make me feel like someone nice to be near
Though my fellow wanderers face forced removal
I need not wander anymore but simply be

Of late when I read to them people seem to hear
With interest mingled with curiosity
Word-of-mouth smoothed and rounded like stones from the sea

This suits me fine since I would like to stay awhile
As I begin to believe it will all work out
And that I might not disappoint myself at last

I look back on my life with a bittersweet smile
To think that what the fuss of it was all about
Was the finding of Easter eggs hidden before

That I would bloom in age and that this thing of mine
For hiding things would in the end work out just fine
A secret no more now having slipped out the door

My future my present to lift me from my past
Perhaps I might not disappoint myself at last

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII