Some Mornings
Some mornings I wake up so afraid.
I see how much is slipping away
while I stand in frozen disbelief.
I am overwhelmed by the futility
of my small actions.
I wonder at the naive sureness of my belief
about what is good and true.
Then I am reminded of you
(and you and you and you…).
I notice that while I was standing frozen,
you had placed your beautiful pebble
on the path.
Suddenly, I find the courage
to take a small step forward
and place my pebble there as well.
Because what else are we going to do?
By Maria Brady-Smith
Photo by Mike Smith
None of us gets through the day without pain. Mine is a dull ache, but you, the poet, seem to experience crushing darkness followed by brilliant clarity.
I wonder which is harder.
But every Sunday morning I read what you have to say because I’m looking for pebbles too. Thank you, Maria.
Why, Paul- you are a poet!! Thank you always for your kind words. Good to know I am not writing into the void!
Exactly how I feel at this time in my life. I am still here because of my friends.
These are hard times, for sure. We need each other to help us through.
I feel your poetry. I cannot say that about too many poets. Thank for for sharing your talent.
Thank you for reading! Maybe we share similar stories.