When you’re stuck
in a corner,
and getting out
and free
just impossible,

You’ve got
to find a way
to wiggle shyly
in your neurons,
legs and arms,
to warm them
till they’re
oily smooth
and slippery,

until escape
and exit
seem more plausible,

and, one day,
soon or late,
you’ll manage
to dislodge yourself,
when you keep
or muster up
at least a tiny sliver of faith,

and a tad of gratitude
for every micro inch of progress
that you make,

which morphs your efforts
not only into gifts
sent by the earth and sea and sky,
but also
into testimonials
about the difference you can make
when you dare
some risk to take
that assumes impossible
can surely switch
to possible,

and you dare, then, to believe
there is a way
in which little ol’ you
is actually also laudable.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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