What Chris Brought With Him

My older sister,
Speaking ex cathedra,
Long, long, long ago
(gently as a scream):
“It’s that simple,
really, selfishness
is the greatest
evil.” So. Jesus and
Buddha shared
A similar aim,
If Bishop Carla
Was to be believed:
The destruction
Of “me” on the one hand,
My irrelevance
On the other.
I tracked down a friend
After 36 years.
He’s a poet, teaches
At a university.
We both longed to be poets,
Long, long long ago,
Wrote verse together
And earnest letters;
Had soul-conversations
In those slower days
On mailed cassette tapes.
He’s published
A book of poems;
I haven’t. We drink coffee,
Talk about the old times,
Laugh. I order three
Copies of his book:
He inscribes two.
Shared stories of depression
Follow, and children, academia,
World travels, gray
Hair, bald pates.
And after it all,
The reminiscences, e-mails,
Tales of spiritual crisis,
A gift arrives, unexpected.
This is grace; it
Makes me truly glad:
As he drove away,
I found I could read
For the first time ever,
Harriet Monroe’s Poetry
Without getting mad.