Kathryn Tierney Moreadith
Push comes to shove, this story of
How she has been astounded
Forced to the brink of how she thinks
And how her dreams abounded.
Take notice now the rule of how
Rhythms must keep changing
She learned this from music’s own drum
Heard its own arranging.
She’d seen a lot in worlds that fought
The very thought of sight
She’d heard a few sounds that were new
As she prepared for flight.
And so aware she was of ‘there’
An idea, a fear.
Each place she’ll go, hope that she’ll know
How to value the ‘here.’
Doubtful is it if she’d the wit
Ever to play this game.
And life, for sure, has done to her
What school could never tame.
Beginning small, a whisper’s call
Pain spoke to her at night
Which soon had grown more than she’d known
How to attempt to fight.
When down she fell under the spell
Of loneliness inset
To mother’s keen advice, she’s seen
She will remain in debt.
She’d stand again and think of when
Mom said to her in need
“You’re doing it, don’t you forget.”
Little engine, indeed.
With each small struggle won, she’d shrug
“I’m tougher than I thought.”
But frailties too, no fewer few
Made she the thing she sought.
“How’s that?” they’d ask, “a simple task:
Not hard to just be you.”
Misled you are, though not so far
From where she started, too.
For how’d she know just where to go
When she lost track of she?
But soon she’d see that was only
When for a while her sunshine smile
Feigned that all was okay
As sadly she kept asking why
The end was not that day,
It is all right, she’d say with might
The best we can, we do.
And when you live with much to give
Things will be taken, too.
So long pain stayed as a parade
Tried to tear down her wits.
But though “You’re weak!” others did speak
She’d never call it quits.
She’d have to laugh at her own gaffe
Of trying to previse
Just when she would know when she should…
Such notions can be lies.
Answers were left the prize of theft
Questioned to no avail.
Or was that act the very tact
Allowing for this tale?
Now, looking back, though there’s a lack
Of clear and manifest,
She did not miss the point of this
In ways, she’s found her best.
When what she earned from what she learned
Was oddly unforeseen
She really saw that life would draw
Hands that could sweep her clean.
But only in the event when
You let its grasp conceal
What you have built, favoring guilt,
Will life venture to steal.
When what was taught and what she thought
She felt as different things
She realized what she’s most prized
Are all these ponderings.
What brings her to that which is true
Without far lands to roam?
When in her ears new songs she hears
That’s how she’ll know she’s home.
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