Not One of my Finer Moments



A simple trip to vote.

All chatter stops.

Four faces stare at us

Four mouths gape open

Four sets of eyes go ‘pop’!


Three fingers point to the left

One finger points at herself

Driver’s license, signature,

Ballot, pen, worn-out cardboard “booth”

Oh ladies I’m not deaf.


“Did she have only one leg?”

(Well, yes, it won’t regrow,

MIA, it is gone, gone, gone.)

“Is that why traffic stopped?”

(Yes, firemen stopped the flow.)


“That man? Son? Grandson?

(No, not the son or grandson.)

“Husband? No, really?”

(Yes Ladies. Husband.)

Is this experience done?


Lord, can You tell me why?

Why people think I don’t hear

Their whispers and remarks

Why today of all days

They had to reach my ears?


How did I ignore them?

Keep a smile on my face?

Say thank you?

Wish them a good evening?

As I wheeled out of the place?


Not one of my finer moments Lord.

You know that, somehow though

I didn’t cry and didn’t even want to.

Didn’t bring it up to my husband.

Just at 2:06 a.m. to You.


It chokes off my breath

Like something swallowed wrong

Not one of my finest moments

But You and I are the only

Ones who know it hurt so long.

        d.f.a.v. 7-16-14


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