I’m grateful for the jungles.
I’m grateful for the swamps.
I’m grateful for the battles—
and how I learned so much.
I’m grateful for the winter days.
I’m grateful for the blues—
The lessons learned in trials
are the ones I wouldn’t choose.
And yet they are the ones that
make me strong beyond compare.
With all that strength I couldn’t
draw from any other well.
I ran across this little poem when I was rummaging today. It may still need a couple tweaks, but I hope you enjoy!
It’s okay to admit when the light leaves
And the dark elbows into its place
The wondering mind will accept it
The cadence of life, a heart rate
Life comes and it goes in these patterns
The soul burns and shivers some days
Dig into the rhythm and lie there
In the womb of the sleepy blue haze.
It’s simple to go with the current
—Let me carry you where you belong—
Is the tune that it sings and it’s easy
Getting caught up in the song.
But the current goes nowhere special
And the effort it takes is minute.
It floats you along without action—
You need to be more resolute.
So much joy in this world come from setting
A goal and a plan, well-conceived.
You get strong fixing course and then training
And finding a way to achieve.
Don’t rush to set foot on the first path
The one that is overly smooth;
The way is well-trodden, that’s certain,
But adventure is really your truth.
What’s the point of a life without challenge?
Why live if there’s nothing to face?
There is joy in the fight, you’ll discover,
When you train hard and finish the race.
When you’re called by a challenge, give listen
To the things that it’s trying to say.
Then you’ll never be one who must mutter
An excuse that their life has been gray.
It’s okay
When you get that C
When you miss a day
When you’re late for a class
When you lose a match
When you don’t know what to say
When you don’t want to kiss
When he finds a new date
When you stay home sick
When you answer wrong
When they think you’re weird
When you stand your ground
When you don’t have a date
When you need to cry
When your mind goes blank
When your clothes look dumb
When you have a different opinion
When you aren’t invited
When you won’t get drunk
When you fall out of touch
When you fail
You’re okay.
The adventure you’ve chosen
Is a hard one—
Others have lied;
I will not.
The things you encounter
Will paralyze.
You’ll be clueless
Where to go,
How to act,
Which way is up.
You’ll feel stuck
Under water
Fighting your way
For breath,
But you won’t know
Which direction
Leads to air
And which to sludge.
You’ll chose
And struggle
And hope.
Things will be
Excruciating,
Unfair.
They’ll chase you
To a panic.
You’ll finally see
A flicker of something
—sunlight—
And fight forward.
You’ll just make it
To the surface
Where you’ll breathe,
Deeply
—folded in brightness—
Just where you need to be.
Don’t be afraid to voice it.
—Yes, the irony is there.
You try to model it instead,
But when you craft a silence bubble,
They rush in with words,
And cram every cranny.
The place looks different in their eyes
—Awkward, lazy, wasted space—
Not the serene spot
You strove to shape.
Still, don’t be afraid to voice it.
There are so many things
About yourself you don’t know
But this one thing you do:
You need wild stretches of wordlessness—
Without assignment
Without expectations—
Pausing deadlines and headlines,
Cutting away dead branches,
Taking chances that you may be worthwhile.
You’re afraid to need anything
Afraid to let someone know when you do
Because vulnerability can be abused.
You don’t want to cast a shadow,
To be any color but clear,
To be more than a whisper.
Secretly, you want to be invisible
Because it would let you be
Free to listen to the stream run
And dance among the trees.
But you can’t want that, not really,
They say. We gave you a book
About how to squeeze every drop
Of time out of each day
Like a lemon on a juicer
But you didn’t study it.
Shame on me, you think,
And carry the book, for years and years,
Finally throwing it away, unread.
Then life begins.
With a breath of silence.
Angela Adams
They’ve been part of your life since you got here;
So, of course you have listened to them.
They may have been with you before you were born;
How could you not hear what they said?
Some of your earliest notions
Were wrapped in deceit and dread
Since you couldn’t distinguish the difference—
What was truth out of all that was said.
If someone had silenced those demons
Your mind might have learned they were false
But the truth and the lies intermingled,
And sang a bewildering song.
But who can silence silence?
They don’t hear what goes on in your mind.
So the lies got free range and they pecked at your brain
Like chickens let loose in the garden.
But the wonderful thing about growing
Is learning and starting to see,
That just because that’s where you started,
An ending place it need not be.
Run hard into battle; don’t fall back.
Stand up when they fire; call them out.
Hold the line. They’re not friends; don’t mistake them.
Lies have only the power you assign.
It’s a nothing’s working sort of day.
So much to do,
So much to say,
So many things that need put into place,
But nothing’s working.
There are so many things that need wrapped up,
Packed up,
Stacked up.
But everything’s slid where it shouldn’t quite be.
I’m the only one working.
But things you don’t know are occurring,
Bubbling,
Brewing,
Emerging in places you can’t yet see:
Don’t turn in your keys.
More things than you think are still working.
Not driving a car made you less
Like the rest; I can attest this is true.
And living your life with these limits,
Led to doors you preferred not to choose.
But the unwanted path led to people
You won’t have otherwise known.
And things in your life you neglected before
Are thing that have flourished and grown.
Don’t look at this thing as a limit,
Though it will be hard for a while,
Just see it as something that sets you apart,
And not as a staggering snarl.
Often the that things that confine you
Aren’t what hurt you; they simply define.
Like an artist entangled by choices
Is set free by some limiting lines.
No one else seems to understand—
They’re going at it the other way
Starting with what they want,
Expecting the other pieces will fall into place.
And often it does—because people like you make it happen.
But in your proud mind it’s set in stone
You can’t follow your dream
Until you’ve earned the right
By setting everything in order first.
And the day doesn’t come—because you’re crippling yourself.
Because there’s always someone else
Who needs your time,
Could use your resources.
And you never have 100% left in your own pocket.
The day will come—because frustrations will build.
And something will click:
You’ll decide to dive in anyway,
Even when the water is rocky and deep.
You’ll learn by leaping.
Finally the day will come—and that will make all the difference.
Angela Writes... 