I'm often tied up in knots,
angry at ghosts of the past,
anxious about threats from the future,
very much out of place in the present.
I get frantic, fretful.
shake my fist at the heavens,
decry my fate,
get sick of the injustice of it all.
But then there are moments:
private moments far from the crowd,
silent moments amid the crowd,
clear-hearted, clear-sighted moments,
moments of peace
where I can recall
the many gifts I've been given,
the thousand and one palpable graces,
life, limb, food, drink, friend, kin, air, sleep,
a roof against the rain, neighbourly neighbours,
the morning cup of coffee
and be thankful,
trusting that Compassion
renews itself each day.
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
Read 103 times
Written on 2018-02-28 at 08:34
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