It's tough out there; but I'm sure I don't need to tell you that . . .
Here's a poem:
Riveted
–Robyn Sarah
It is possible that things will not get better
than they are now, or have been known to be.
It is possible that we are past the middle now.
It is possible that we have crossed the great water
without knowing it, and stand now on the other side.
Yes: I think that we have crossed it. Now
we are being given tickets, and they are not
tickets to the show we had been thinking of,
but to a different show, clearly inferior.
Check again: it is our own name on the envelope.
The tickets are to that other show.
It is possible that we will walk out of the darkened hall
without waiting for the last act: people do.
Some people do. But it is probable
that we will stay seated in our narrow seats
all through the tedious dénouement
to the unsurprising end — riveted, as it were;
spellbound by our own imperfect lives
because they are lives,
and because they are ours.
21 comments:
nice poem. life is a struggle. I don't think we are promised otherwise, though sometimes i wish it would slow down just a bit. in my thoughts.
Great poem. Spellbound by our own imperfect lives... what can we do but remain spellbound?
Dark fire here!Hope you are ok Tut tut,take care.
ohh! i've read this one before, looong ago - i love it! thank you for the rediscovery. love that last stanza!!
while transitioning, remember to breathe! crossing fingers for you -
xox
rdm
it's a huge responsibility. :D all the best to you!
That poem was worth waiting for. I hear ya! As for your transition to primary wage earner, I do not know the wheres & whys but I do know the drill. I have been there many times as either a single or a married. Last transition 3 yrs ago when the spousal unit became disabled. Sigh. I like my job now, which is a blessing, but I find myself looking over my shoulder sometimes, wondering when it will end. That is insecurity at its finest.
because they are lives,
and because they are ours. How true. Fine poem! Rock on!
Best of luck. And what a great poem.
Please put a good work in for me with The Man.
Let's start a knitters commune. We can all live in tents on a farm somewhere. That way we wont have to work so much and will have more time for recreation. I haven't had time to work on my socks all week. : (
nice post - my best to you!
Ah welcome to my world. Primary wage earner all my life! It's not so bad even though I'm sure I got the wrong tickets or the wrong show! Good luck to you Toots.
Even though I was not always the primary wage earner, I seemed to be the primary bill payer... thank goodness all that is behind me now.
That is certainly a very moving poem, I haven't come across it before. Once living a life, you can't wriggle out of it.
The poem is so apropos for me - feeling like I'm from the frying pan into the fire, too.
The poem is a real reality check on life. Sort of like "Standing room is all we have left. Do you still want to see the show?" We usually say "Yes" after making the effort to show up.
My feet have been in the fire for eighteen years, now...
yes its tough
i hope the fire doesn't get too hot
can i come and live in the knitters commune too?
Great poem! Thank you forsharing it with us!
Have a grea day
Peace and love
xoxo
A good poem.
We are all promised only today and we don't know what that day holds in store. We have the choice of seeing it as a glass half full or half empty.
Being primary wage earner is not a bad thing. It gives one a true perspective of what life is really like. It also makes us less dependent and allows to realize we can pull our own weight when it becomes necessary.
Best of luck to you, keep moving forward.
tut-tut, nice poem. And hang in there. I know it's not easy.
@Squirrel; I've been spell-bound for years! No wait; make that confused!
I am fortunate not to be primary...but I am working on going primary if I have too...that is a great poem....
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