Here Comes Friday With a Script I Haven't Seen

It's amazing the timeliness of some recent events here lately.  Just small things that have come at just the right moment.  Maybe it was something that someone said, or an act of kindness that someone went out of their way to complete, or a sweet text message, or a bouquet of flowers from a dear friend, or an email from a respected pastor that spawned all sorts of possibilities and ideas.  The little things that have added up to the big things and made me all the more grateful.

One of those timely small things was the poem below.  I snatched it from Travis's blog, which seems to be a habit as of late.  I happened to read it the morning after I had a minor meltdown about life and relationships, basically having my own pity-party and feeling like I was "ill-prepared for the privilege of living."  I think it hit me at just the right time and spoke to so many of the emotions that were running through my head and my heart. 

Performance without rehearsal.
Body without alterations.
Head without premeditation.

I know nothing of the role I play.
I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it.
I have to guess on the spot
Just what this play’s all about.

Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.
I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.
I trip at every step over my own ignorance.
I can’t conceal my hayseed manners.
My instincts are for hammy histrionics.
Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me even more.
Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.

Words and impulses you can’t take back,
Stars you’ll never get counted,
Your character like a raincoat you button on the run -
The pitful results of all this unexpectedness.

If I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,
Or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!
But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen.
Is it fair, I ask
(my voice a little hoarse,
Since I couldn’t even clear my throat offstage).

You’d be wrong to think that it’s just a slapdash quiz
Taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.
I’m standing on the set and I see how strong it is.

The props are surprisingly precise.
The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.
The farthest galaxies have been turned on.
Oh no, there’s no question, this must be the premiere.
And whatever I do
Will become forever what I’ve done.

Wistawa Szymborska