Let it Be Sed
(To children and best friends)
She was the sort who couldn’t sit.
But she couldn’t sit.
Her name was wrong.
Her parents named her Sedriana.
Her friends called her Sed.
Others called her SS,
Some just hisssssed when they saw her go by.
But Sed couldn’t sit,
She often swallowed hard,
She tried to sing.
Sedriana Sabastiano was on a search.
Her mother thought it was for a star,
Her Dad couldn’t figure what she was looking for,
She moved too much for him,
He got dizzy and would have to sit down when Sed was around.
Once he said to Sed, “Slow down Sed, quiet down, go to bed!”
But Sed had little time for sleep or sitting or snoozing or even sipping
the tea that her mother brought for her,
Or later that her boyfriend brought for her,
Or later that her husband brought for her,
Or later which she sometimes remembered to make for herself.
Sed was always said to be searching.
“Look,” said a neighbor once concerning Sed,
“She swims, sips, slurps, skates and sneezes always as thought she is looking, peeking, seeking and searching for something spectacular, what could it be?”
Sed was always said to be free, Intense, frantic,… sometimes frightening,
often frightened, but free.
One day when Sed was no longer a child, her friend Sally paid
her a friendship visit.
Sally was a sweet, silent, contented sort.
Sally worked from 9-5, had clean cupboards and never seemed to mind.
She served on all the local committees, raised her children bright and strong,
She and Sed were said to be the bestest of friends.
One day Sally was on her way to visit Sed, walked through the door
And Sed was on her head!
“Sed,” Sally said, “Why are you on your head?”
Sed came down,…one never talks while on her head.
Sed merely sighed and said,
“Sally,…Sally, I’m looking for a thread!”
Sally nodded and understood, put down the cookies she’d brought for Sed
and grinned and smiled with a nod of her head.
Sally understood for she loved Sed.
Sed packed her bags as Sally sat nearby and read.
Years later after having traveled far,
To Paris, Caracus, Toledo, Zanzibar,
Sed was on a train, munching a fig,
She wore a hat that she knew was too big.
Suddenly as the brakes on the train squealed to a stop, Sed slid
Forward and in her head went a pop.
She stood up, startled, shook her head once or twice,
And as if possessed, laughed and wept til the day turned to night.
The moon came out full and Sed sat alone,
Bouncing on the train realizing she was home.
No matter where she roamed she was home,…inside herself.
She hugged herself, her wrinkled brow softened,
Her search was alive, but her heart somehow blossomed, with a
murmur that can listen as well as be heard,
Sed found her star and bounced quietly along.
The train ran its route,
The moon flared its glow,
Sed was found quietly sitting,
As the train’s whistle did blow.
By BB Webb