The Spirit We Leave Behind

Wandering through life
we stop along the way
sometimes for
the briefest of moments
sometimes for time
drawn out in memory
but faster than light.

Wherever we stop
we leave an imprint
a sliver of our soul
a slice of our spirit
the lingering sound of our laughter
perhaps the taste of our tears.

We hope
as we wander
that the impressions left behind
linger in the lives
we’ve touched
not the bitterness of loss
but the butterfly flutter
of inspiration
of hope.

The lucky ones learn
later in life
at  different points of the journey
of the impact
their spirit in that brief time made.
Hope and dreams left behind
to nurture and grow
under the caring touch
of other creative hands.

The link to the spirit of self
feels joy in these moments
but sadness as well
for tasks left unfinished
by a wandering moment
that was in some ways
all too brief.

My long time readers may recall a post I wrote at the beginning of last summer, one of my best posts perhaps, of my time working with a very special group of people to create an art/drama program. Here’s a link to Appropriate Age Appropriateness  if you forgot or are interested in revisiting that post.  I actually wrote a series of posts about working with them, as well as teaching a Youth Theatre Studio that focused on the power of imagination, because that is where one of my passions lie. Those two projects were the hardest thing to leave when we moved on from Kansas, where we only stayed for a year. Yesterday, my dear friend Jackie, my partner in the program, posted this update about continuing to work with this wonderful group. The images here tell you everything you need to know. The above poem comes from my joy that something I began continues, but also my (very human) sadness that I cannot be part of it. If I am completely honest, there is a tiny part of me that wants my role in projects to be more important, like they cannot function without me. But that isn’t the reality, and is totally selfish. I am honored to have been the spark, and hope the project continues to grow into a comforting and warming flame. Congrats to Jackie and Marisa, who have made this project soar.

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24 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. SmallHouseBigGarden
    Apr 10, 2012 @ 11:10:50

    that poem is beautiful! I especially like the lines:
    “the briefest of moments
    sometimes for time
    drawn out in memory
    but faster than light.”

    you’ve really caught the sentiment of how we touch others and they touch us, but how we can’t ever really know what others take from the experience.

    Reply

  2. jfb57
    Apr 10, 2012 @ 12:00:09

    Love the poem. Really resonates with me at the moment at a time when I remember my parents who both left me at this time of the year.

    Reply

  3. Kathryn McCullough
    Apr 10, 2012 @ 16:46:55

    Love the poem, Lisa. And it’s great to hear there has been an update on the program you helped create. Look forward to hearing more. Still think that post should be FP!
    Hugs,
    Kathy

    Reply

  4. thebestdigger
    Apr 10, 2012 @ 18:36:10

    Lovely poem. We are here but a moment. We touch and go. Perceived or not. A whisper, a shadow, a suggestion of ourselves as we flutter by, beating wings on the breeze for the brief moments of our existence. But oh, the impact we have, the imprint we leave behind as we recognize each other in our passing.

    Reply

  5. Andra Watkins
    Apr 10, 2012 @ 19:40:39

    This poem is rapturous, Lisa. It really captures your joy at having made something. Sometimes, the greatest test of how we did with a thing is how it does without us. Clearly, you did an excellent job.

    Reply

  6. Stuart Nager
    Apr 11, 2012 @ 10:07:49

    Great poem and I’m sooooo glad they continued your work. Legacies are a great thing.

    Reply

  7. 4amWriter
    Apr 11, 2012 @ 13:33:00

    Even though it brings sadness to think about the people and the program you had to leave behind, what joy and pride you must also feel knowing that something you started stays strong. Congrats to you!

    Great poem, too.

    Reply

    • Lisa Wields Words
      Apr 11, 2012 @ 13:48:53

      It’s always a mixture of pride and self-doubt. Like would it have continued if I stayed? If I could do it then, what’s wrong with me now? I’m in a yucky place in my mind.

      I’m glad you liked the poem.

      Reply

      • 4amWriter
        Apr 11, 2012 @ 13:57:37

        Oh. Do you mean that you’re down on yourself for not developing a similar program now?

        Reply

        • Lisa Wields Words
          Apr 11, 2012 @ 14:00:27

          I’m down on myself for not trying harder to accomplish things, like getting published, getting more work, etc. etc. etc.

          Reply

          • 4amWriter
            Apr 11, 2012 @ 14:14:48

            I hear you. I get in ruts like that, too. Then I think about how my mother just sits all day long on her couch, in total depression, and can’t even go outside on her porch to admire her beautiful garden for 5 minutes.

            I have to remind myself if I’m not careful, I will end up like that. Some days my reminder is enough to get me cranking, some days I just feel crummy. It’s a daily struggle. I wish you luck, perseverence, and a peanut butter cup. :)

            Reply

  8. lesliepaints
    Apr 11, 2012 @ 21:49:39

    Ahh, that part of leaving “a sliver of our soul a slice of our spirit” made me take a deep breath. There is no greater feeling than sharing that which we love with another. The journeying and within that journey the people we are gifting and who gift us in return. I “feel” your poem. Beautiful, Lisa.

    Reply

  9. CMSmith
    Apr 12, 2012 @ 11:00:39

    The poem is very nice. The things undone reminds me of the sadness I sometimes experience when I remember all the things that I had hoped to do with our children, but the days slipped by too fast.

    Reply

  10. Trackback: Let’s Take Over Freshly Pressed « Woman Wielding Words

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