. . . /\ . . .
_______
Every ticking of the clock
there occurs some bad or good acts
they could be organized, or unkempt,
yet, nothing, or no one could pre-empt
our thoughts.....there's not a hint of rage
just questions on being there on a big stage,
called life, like a puppet...or pulling your own
strings...fighting abuse when that moment is born,
the fear to err...in making a vital decision
to reel, when marked as a failed person,
who wants to be censured......or judged,
be disheartened by an ugly smudge?
it's almost unwelcome, to hear scrutiny
wary of doors shutting on you, with finality
it's hard not to hear people's words
when they hit the ears
and the chest.............like swords,
a hostile wind.....a strange silence...are felt,
loud in their echoes,
........no human heart is ever made of pelt.
faith and hope
........embolden the spirit to persist,
to rise from all storms in life
...............to still exist...
when the winds blow nonstop,
............................is, i believe,
God's way of fanning the fires,
........................of our will, to live,
we go on breathing
...................we survive......
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 26, 2019
