Cheese or Siete: Poem of Appreciation.

By Obediah Michael Smith

don’t know if I’ve thanked- if I thank sufficiently
persons who assist me- who’ve assisted me

people in the world who keep me alive-
who’ve kept me alive- who love and who’ve loved me

some have loved me so very little
some others in contrast have loved me so much

some people as lovely- as loving
as some others are wicked
or as some others are indifferent

there are those to whom I’ve turned
again and again

there are those who’ve turned to me
to love and to assist

I do not know if I have been sufficiently grateful
or if I have the nature, the capacity to be
as grateful as I should be

or am I the sort of beast who takes
and who’s taken all that I have gotten
have been granted, gratis, for granted

do not want to be grateful, dead
want to be grateful here, want to be grateful now

busy in pursuit of more and more,
after achieving more and more, am I too busy,
moving too fast to stop and on my knees,
washed in tears, say thanks to those
who’ve loved me- undeserving, ungrateful me

ashamed to turn again
to such good hearts, to such good souls
to say, I have another mountain to go up
to go over, push me, back me

when I’ve not shown appreciation sufficient
to them for assisting- for insisting that I,
up to this point did not slip back
an eighth of an inch but assisted me
and insisted and still insist
that I keep climbing
that I keep making it
that I keep moving on

my soul looks back in wonder
and I wonder how I got over,
wonder why I did, didn’t have to
how very often I nearly didn’t

but someone or other out of the blue
out of the sky, out of heaven or out of nowhere

or a million angels with a net,
disguised as a person, saved me
is why I am weeping like a faucet
so happy, so helpless,
I’m saved, I’m blessed

I have one family of parents and siblings
and I have another made up of mystery
full of mysteries, both families are actually

what have I done to deserve
this state of Christmas
state of Easter unending

this ability to lift up, to lift off
cross water, walk on air
from January to January
from year to year

is there any wonder
when my photograph is taken
I am grinning from ear to ear

no need to ask me to say
cheese or siete♦bf

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010

Obediah Michael Smith has published 13 books of poems, a short novel and a cassette recording of his poems. He has two daughters and two sons.

To read more of his work visit Earth Spinners at: bestwordsmith.blogspot.com