There's Really No Other Option
It's a small boat.
You're alone in a storm.
The sea is rough.
A gust of wind takes your sail.
The boat spins and lurches.
It threatens to swamp.
You scream into the dark night.
The sky absorbs your anger, despair, frustration.
Then you pick up the oars,
and you row.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
This poem is helping me row today, Mary Lee. Thank you.
ReplyDelete...when there's only one way to move you from where you're at to where you need to be... definitely only one option.
ReplyDelete