August 27, 2010

My Journey to God

Clocks

If you were to tell the story
of your life, where would you begin?
I would start here:
I am five years old, and we are sitting
on the floor at the front of the classroom.

The kindergarten teacher is holding
a large cardboard clock.
Big hand. Little hand. Big hand. Little hand.
I am surrounded by children.
We are learning to tell time.

Big hand. Little hand. I am alone.
I am not thinking about clocks,
minutes and hours. I am thinking
about me and what a miracle I am.

I am thinking about the wondrous
fact that these large thoughts
that coalesce to form me are located
in this small body
wearing a red plaid dress
trimmed in rickrack. I am thinking

it very mysterious and amazing
that my thoughts are utterly separate
from the boy who sits on my left,
from the teacher who sits before me
on a piano bench holding a cardboard clock.

By Nettie Farris

(Nettie Farris is a member of St. Mary-of-the-Knobs Parish in Floyds Knobs.) †

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