Sunday, July 22, 2012

Back from a week in MI...

Just got home last night-on the way home I scribbled this down:
              (writing a poem always makes me think of my paternal grandmother who sends her writing to all her grandchildren with handwritten notes of love and encouragement.  Love you gma Lois =)

How will you fight your demons
you can't do it lying down

how will you find your passion
afraid to make a sound

calling people crazy
when we're all made the same

ignoring where the powers from
always quick to blame

We all chose a master
even on the side

Nowhere in the middle
nowhere to hide

Then the feeling underwater comes
the gasping for fresh air

There's never time to think
no time to prepare

But you've been here before maybe
some how you didn't sink

So move on through the water
    the strife
        It may be made of life

1 comment:

emilykate said...

I like your poem. Writing can be hard for me to sit down and focus on, but always so worth it.