A big and dangerous life


I don’t have a big or dangerous life.

As soon as I type that,
I know it’s not true.

Everyone’s life is big
and dangerous.

That’s because we’re alive.

No matter how carefully I walk
I stumble into puddles of sadness
and streams of disappointment.

So turbulent
and unpredictable is
my personal weather system,
I should never leave the house
without a raincoat
and my wellies.

A few days ago
bravely I opened
my butterfly wings
against the wind
and forgave someone.

The sky cleared.
A plum tree blossomed at the top of the hill.
In Boston the snow stopped falling.

In my big and dangerous life
I’m learning to make my own weather.

One comment

Leave a Reply