I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the river
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
Sometimes we have to experience the darkness to appreciate the light. Then worries are no longer a concern – just live and enjoy each moment.
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That is very true Bev -)
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Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
I love her words on life, but like most artists, she probably wrestled with darkness, which is where she found the fountain of words within herself. — kenne
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You really get her Ken — thank you!
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Thanks for sharing Ken -)))
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wonderful. most especially the drawing-it captures the feeling of the poem.
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Thank you Holly! I hope that you are well -)
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