Oh, wouldn't it be great to be able to rise above the everyday problems that continue to plague us?
I thought about that.
I thought about literally rising above them, sailing off as carefree as a bird ... or more like a big red balloon which had just gained its freedom.
Of course, I came back to earth, to the reality that things would still bug me, but I felt better able to cope.
How's that for a bit of therapy ... at least in the realm of things which, in the long view of things, aren't all that important?
Maybe if I practice on the little things I will be better able to rise above the larger, more serious hurdles which lie ahead.
It's a thought, anyway. Now the poem:
With practice, I fully expect
someday to defy the gravity
of situations that bug me now.
A promise broken beyond repair,
an umbrella gone inside-out,
the spilled beans of some urgent
secret, the hole in my sock,
a lost mitten, broken shoelace,
a bookmark gone astray,
my coffee cup gone stone cold,
things I’ve forgotten,
crawling out, feeling old.
I see myself like a giant
red balloon, rising easily
above them all. And don’t you
dare grab the string.
(originally published in Potpourri)
Today's word: balloon