It was always there, the Future,
A warm friendly thought in the back of the mind,
The magical journey to the land of intention,
The planned return to the places of love.
You would always be there.
It would always be possible.
Always there, the Future,
Just not accessible right now this minute:
Steadfast dreams of you and peace,
Of voyage and venture, country and seashore
As I get the children ready
And clatter through the washing up
And scribble down the shopping list
And hurtle out to work . . .
Still mine for the taking, whenever the Future came.
Now I know differently.
No solid earth, no sturdy land,
No dealing in certainties here.
Beautiful still, but a gemstone bubble against the moon
The future floats ahead of me,
Bright as the sunlight, fickle as the sea.
I yearn to grasp my certainties again,
Dread their disintegration at my touch.
O, pity this grieving fool
Who mistook a promising future
For a promised one.