MATTER

Matter persists they say – 
not just the stain on your favorite 
sweater or the mole on your arm.
Molecules themselves have endless 
lives in a material soap opera.
This week one’s Christ, then Mozart
then Charles Manson.
That’s what they say.

Descartes believed he thought
hence he existed – something 
his laundress and wife doubted not
his dirty socks evidence enough.
Who would use his atoms next
be thoughtful or obtuse 
a tree, a bird, a slug?
I die therefore I live.

We’re each on loan 
from earth’s library
one size fits all
pretty or dull, fast or slow
joyful or sad.
Cinderellas headed to the ball
when the clock strikes twelve, 
we become someone else.

Relentlessly frugal
earth wastes nothing
in its global recycling.
So too must the light
which animates us
continue its journey 
becoming the sparkle in other eyes
or the ache in another's heart.

Published by

Cynthia M. Sheward

Cynthia Sheward has written poetry since she was a child. She was born in Massachusetts but spent her young life in New Jersey. She applied her English degree from Arcadia University teaching junior-senior high school in Vermont the 70’s. In the 80s, she and her husband built their own house with their own hands in the mountains of North Carolina. In the 90s, she returned to NJ where she worked for a Fortune 500 corporation until her retirement. Her work has been published in Friends Journal, Evening Street, the Bennington Banner, Fiber Arts Magazine, the Mountain Times and various other print media. She currently resides in Jupiter, Florida.

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