Steady as a rock
In actual fact, rock
Some days we wade through water
Steady and purposeful
The resistance a joy
Some days we tread carefully
On slippery shale
That slides and divides
And will not stay still
Some days we totter on tiptoe
Arms open wide
To balance the sky
As if we might fly
Some days we trudge in the mud
All sticky and cloddy
And clinging and cloying
And seem to get nowhere
Slowly.
Some days the earth moves
And we stumble and stagger
And fall to our knees
The position of prayer
Some days we just stand
And we stare and behold
And just wait for the magma
To cool into stone
That will steady our path
And help us find home.
(Peter Conner March 2020)
(Hear my song of the poem here)
© Photo Brook Sabin