a matter of will

 

 

Dream drops fall and splatter
into vivid traces of moments
some from familiar stock, others
complete unknowns- people I have yet
to see, things that wait to touch me.

I remember tremulous words about drops
things that fall repeatedly upon heart and mind
until, by the awful Grace...
Yet, I see the snowflakes too
and I know that there are kinder ways
to teach the most stubborn spirit
a Divine sight

Deep in memory, troubled times that fell
when my Dearests went away.
It was not so unusual the voices say
everything changes, lives come and
do not stay but for me, it was always
a matter of will

Bent by the blows the reed rises still
up with the next whim of water, the stalk makes
sail of the nearest puff of wind
and I grasp a thread on the coattails of eternity
because like the resilient reed and the flimsy stalk,
I know, it is mine.