April 3, 2020
By Patrick T. Reardon
I learned my ABCs long
ago and know the dance
inside darkness. Better
to stumble and bang and
crash in shadows than
corner-sit waiting for sun.
Mournful either way, yet
joy in electricity of touch.
I am old, and my bruises
are old, scars, deformations,
elbow knots, skin tags, out
of balance, out of focus,
gall in stomach, failures of
skill, of act, of nerve, yet
joy in dark leapings taken.
Now, when land is roamed
by invisible Leviathan, lazy
hunter, picking off herd’s
weak and frail, dark within
dark, I am threat and victim
but content with sum of
steps down all the days
from my mother’s womb and
joy of awe-full wide eyes.
Patrick T. Reardon
4.3.20
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.
