"Mist, Earthquake, Grace," by Hans Ostrom

As Chance Would Have It

Why Here, Why Now?


Is this the place in which
you planned to be,
or not particularly?
Is that the face
you hoped to see
in the mirror when
you arrived?
You've survived
thus far by means
of grace, you might say,
or we could always
phrase it another way--
chance or will or accident.


To be is to embody
mystery. Would you agree?
These are the places
of your life, it seems,
and these are the faces
of those you'll know
during your time.
It's tempting just
to leave it at that,
so let's, as the sun
sets at a point west
of exactly where you are,
and where are you, exactly?


Copyright Hans Ostrom 2008