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This life wounds us, wittingly or not,
the unforeseen slight, the shattered heart,
hopes deferred, dissipating joy,
unmet expectations, sagging energies--
all cycle and flow in us; they surge forth,
unbidden, at times when we least expect them,
casting shadows upon the lightened times
of our years.
So, we accept these wounds as part
of the price we pay for being alive.
We feel the pain, but do not glory in it;
We feel the fear, but are not controlled by it;
We accept our disappointments, then move on—
To what?-- other disappointments, as often as not
(for I swear they conspire in pairs and trios
at times, so very often).
But, in time, the fog lifts; the dust rises away;
horrific night gives way to the dawn of day
(or, dreary day gives way to sleep and peace of night).
We remember our power once more; live again our joy;
a smile crosses our lips, a song returns,
and we, too, turn a corner on life.
We remember the pain, and feel perhaps still
the scars and remnants of our unhealed wounds;
but we know as well, deep within our souls,
that they are not too high a price to have paid
to be awakened again to life in all its power, majesty,
glory, and to feel again
the sheer joy of living pulsing in our hearts.
jbs
3/12/02 9/29/02
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