The Temple

Tomorrow I undergo an esophagogastrroduodenscopy—that’s quite a word—one I can’t even begin to pronounce. Anyway, it has been eighteen months since my surgery, and a year since I last had one of those unpronounceable tests, but the time has come, the walrus said—now where out of the dim recesses of my mind did that appear? But back to my forthcoming test, I feel good and I fear no evil, but there is always that little bit of apprehension that creeps into the picture. The following is a poem I wrote before my surgery. I revisit it now as I look forward with little gusto toward a very early morning appointment and a muzzy-headed day.

The Temple

The temple, from the outside,
looks good—
well preserved,
considering its age
and the wear and tear it has endured.

But, when science ventures inside
and tells me of the scarring,
the damage,
and the graffiti of a lifetime,
I stop and wonder
where I went wrong,
where I failed
and why I did not notice soon enough,
or know enough to care for this temple precious?

Why was I not aware before
of the damage being done,
and the abuse unintended?

I am not ready yet
to implode this temple into the dusts of time.
I have so much more to do—
I must make amends,
make well this human edifice
that I have so long neglected.

Vi Jones
©March 8, 2006