Not sure where this came from . . . guess I was thinking of more years in the desert and places I would rather be . . . yet there is so much here and people I would not have met in other places . . . guess I needed reminding
Weathering
How does it go?
Weather the storm?
Ah, yes, that’s the saying, but
Weather it well?
At times we have
things thrust upon us
voyages or experiences
not of our choice, just musts
So we begin our journey
Reluctant, even defiant –
I will not be a part
I will sulk and be miserable
But from a nook in our minds
emerge fragments of a poem –
of weathering the storm,
and weathering it well
Ha! – that means nothing to me,
It’s for someone else!
I am right in my resentment
Sure in my fury
The storm may be long
and weather it I will,
hunkered down in a corner of the ship –
Ha! weather it well? What a laugh
And when the storm passes
I will emerge and start
again where I was
'ere forced off course
That blasted poem
it haunts my thoughts
At storm end, to start again?
Why not . . . weather it well?!
My tactics must change –
I’ll stand on the deck,
even lend a hand
and gain strength from this storm . . .
Working side of others,
engaged in the storm,
I will draw from their strength
and do what I can to bolster theirs
I will employ this storm,
whether long, whether short,
to continue my quest –
on to my goal, my destination
This storm MAY delay me
or last longer than liked,
but arriving at the port
my journey will continue, not start again
The strength drawn from shipmates,
and the muscle built of my contribution,
will advance me toward my aim
when I reach the calmer shore
There to rest and look back –
Ah . . . the storm was a part, and I almost missed it
whimpering in misery and resentment,
bound by my pride and ignorance
Oh, the poem about weathering –
'Tis for others, AND for ME!
So I will not cower, I . . . I will embark and be on deck
facing the storm with its grandeur and shaping
Not just of the coast, but of the sailor –
Building strength of the body
and potency of the soul
‘midst all its fury and foam
Weathering
How does it go?
Weather the storm?
Ah, yes, that’s the saying, but
Weather it well?
At times we have
things thrust upon us
voyages or experiences
not of our choice, just musts
So we begin our journey
Reluctant, even defiant –
I will not be a part
I will sulk and be miserable
But from a nook in our minds
emerge fragments of a poem –
of weathering the storm,
and weathering it well
Ha! – that means nothing to me,
It’s for someone else!
I am right in my resentment
Sure in my fury
The storm may be long
and weather it I will,
hunkered down in a corner of the ship –
Ha! weather it well? What a laugh
And when the storm passes
I will emerge and start
again where I was
'ere forced off course
That blasted poem
it haunts my thoughts
At storm end, to start again?
Why not . . . weather it well?!
My tactics must change –
I’ll stand on the deck,
even lend a hand
and gain strength from this storm . . .
Working side of others,
engaged in the storm,
I will draw from their strength
and do what I can to bolster theirs
I will employ this storm,
whether long, whether short,
to continue my quest –
on to my goal, my destination
This storm MAY delay me
or last longer than liked,
but arriving at the port
my journey will continue, not start again
The strength drawn from shipmates,
and the muscle built of my contribution,
will advance me toward my aim
when I reach the calmer shore
There to rest and look back –
Ah . . . the storm was a part, and I almost missed it
whimpering in misery and resentment,
bound by my pride and ignorance
Oh, the poem about weathering –
'Tis for others, AND for ME!
So I will not cower, I . . . I will embark and be on deck
facing the storm with its grandeur and shaping
Not just of the coast, but of the sailor –
Building strength of the body
and potency of the soul
‘midst all its fury and foam
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