-- Beginnings --

John Herlihy

I love nothing more than to think about beginnings,

To dig down to witness the roots as underpinnings.

The beginnings of flowers in the folded flower bud,

Born into the advent of a spring day in cold blood.

Birth of a fragile birdling soon to grow into a dove,

The searing pain of emotions that morph into love.

Beginnings speak of springs turning into rivers pure,

Green sprouts of forest saplings will as trees endure.

Imagine, are you listening, of the origins of the earth,

When God finished the creation, he forgot its birth.

Shook the last clump of earth from his hands that fell,

Into far distant reaches of space as if falling into a well.

Beginnings stare us in the face and we take little care;

We meet a stranger who becomes a friend laid bare.

The beginnings of childhood, of adulthood, of old age;

The opening of a book that unfolds with the first page.

Then there are the worries, anxieties, sorrows, fears;

All have their first time, as the first time we shed tears.

A thousand fresh beginnings fill the eyes of childhood;

Sheer innocence shapes perceptions as nothing could.

The beginnings of our fantasy in the flying magic carpet;

The first time to play tennis with my beginner’s racket.

The first time I lost anything I treasured, a paper boat;

The first time I flew to Europe, my heart in my throat.

First things wear the miracle of wonder upon their face,

A sure proof of God’s wisdom that nothing can replace.

Giving off the attitude that they have something to speak;

Inaudible whispers enter the ear that induce us to weep.

Secret energy conveyed of what never happened before;

Something did come to life as a wave crashing on shore.

Even in my old age, I still see things as if for the first time,

A new insight, a fresh happiness, wisdom that is only mine.

These beginnings crowd all the endings that begin to arise,

Endings that only a long and happy life could rightly devise.

Beginnings always helped me deal with what I did endure;

Beginnings and their childlike innocence, their legacy pure.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Sunday 16 January 2022