Other People's Lives

OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES

Other people's lives...

Lay scattered on my desk, disorganized
Like pages spilling from the Book of Life
Jostled by an imperfect angel eager to accept
The job of guiding us while we live out
The charts of our lives.  They busy themselves,
Organizing rendezvous among their charges.
And I, the unknowing participant,

Am given the task to remake or break
Family ties, harm or heal hearts and minds.
The judge might do just as I recommend,
If not, he must accept the blame.  If so, 
The blood is on my hands. But who are  we to judge,
Plans of God, machinations of the angels, or
The intentions of man?

Am I instead, like the angel's protégé's,
A project of yet another angel, drafting
Blueprints of humanity.  If so,
I will try to do my job as I am told,
And trust God knows the policies
Of this man-made organism called
The Department of Human Services

And if he does, for surely he must,
And if I do as I am told, most of the time,
Then surely I will fit into the mold
He has set for me, so that all the little trains
Of people go where they should, move
As directed, and fall into their designated places
In just the right time to please their angels. But if,

He knows me, for I hope he does,
He will know I do not fit so easily
In perfect little squares.  I jut out in spots,
Slip where I should stick, and misjudge.
Others' meanings . . actions . . .lives.
I, who sometimes fail to do as I am told, who hesitate
To follow The Plan, when I feel it will cause harm.

So if He knows me, for surely he should, 
Is He not counting on me to continue, to be and act
As He intended?  Could it not be His plan,
For mother's to slip and recover, to learn and to share; 
Or His plan for children to lose and then gain
A new family, by whom they will be cared;
And for me to be there?

So I sit at this desk, lives surrounding me, waiting,
To be arranged in neat little folders.  But instead, 
I walk away, leaving papers in disarray, while I smile,
Along with my angel, at our job well done for the day.
Unlike my angel, I must leave this job and take on another
To resume my job as a fellow human, wife, poet, mother.
But return I will, and until then, with me have hope and faith.

That together we'll be woven in this quilt of His creation, 
While we await our occupations, and are given
Our one unified assignment.  With angels' as our guides, and with. 
Each having our own design, we must join each other and 
Ready ourselves for this mission we have been entrusted;
To warm the cold toes of humanity, to thaw its frozen obsession
Of expecting perfection

In other people's lives.