For My Graduating Class
After all these years,
we carry stories in our skin,
memories in our muscles;
skiing accident, back surgery,
nursing a child. The summer
we were seventeen and spent
days at the pool, flirting, cooking
in baby oil, getting too much sun.
We carry our goodbyes; touching
Mother’s hand in the nursing home,
hugging a son goodbye at the airport,
walking a daughter up the aisle.
We carry Father’s long legs,
Grandmother’s love of Mozart,
and a personal collection of scars
like muted battle ribbons.
We’ve outlived the dog who climbed
Ben Lomond with us, the velvet
living-room set, a dozen hairstyles.
We survived breast cancer, divorce,
The MBA program we thought
might last forever. Our faces hold
a network of squints and yawns,
scowls and smiles.
The proof of our journeys
lives in our bodies.
Sit beside me, old friend,
give me a smile.
Show me your story.
Poem by Gail Schimmelpfennig
