wrestling with the “taking”

from others, which really means

facing my own things taken:

joy, time, people,

memories, hopes, innocences.

by falling grains of sand

or lightning bolts of providence.

tired of withdrawing,

taking of my own steals more

life, laughter, joy.

ache subdued for now

by words of old

desiring the same for all.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

from “Ulysses”  by Tennyson

turquoise vessel

the coast of Malta, november 2009


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