Not Driftwood

When I find myself
Yet again,
Raging against the tides
I wonder how it is that I ended up
A rebel voice in an orchestra of compliance.
I didn’t mean to.
I didn’t go looking for ways to make things complicated.
I always imagine I’d be great at a quiet life
Books.  Plants.  Tea.  Birdsong.
Perfect simple gentle things.
But there’s a storm inside
Cyclone spinning for all that is
Nettle stinging my mind.

I grieve wistfully for a life
Steered by stars and driftwood
Gentle smoldering embers
not stoked to leap to fight
and inwardly scream for what’s not right.
For a mind not feeling strongly enough about anything to ignite.

Not chain link rattling my mind against against…
So much.

Then I remember this.
Small me.
She stood up for what she believed.
She collected pennies at a canteen door.
With one who stood there too.
They believed they could make a difference
So they did.

It was a lot back then.
It’s a lot now.

Small me would say
it’s no so bad you know,
The raging storms, the rebel voice.
And what choice do you have?
You are not driftwood.
And you are not a lone voice
In the orchestra of defiance.






Author: Lowrey E. Gray

Usually found with a cup of tea, a pet or a book, I am most content with life's humble gifts. A catch up with friends and home baked cakes is my idea of bliss. My heart beats where my family are close but my soul will always be in that place between sunset and sunrise. 💚

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