Sometimes,
I wish,
Life were easier.
Sometimes,
I wish,
I could do more.
More for those I care about,
Those I love.
So often,
In lieu of being able,
Able to bring about such change,
Such sought after solace,
Is the pain,
Of learning to accept,
Accept the truth,
Of the Serenity Prayer.
Trusting that God will,
“Grant me the serenity,
To accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.”
Understanding that,
While there are things,
Outside my control,
There are many more instances,
In which I am capable,
Of being an agent of change.
Though such moments may be,
Of minimal magnitude,
Major momentum may muster,
From a series of such minor occurrences,
Strung together.
Sometimes,
I wish life’s ups and downs,
Weren’t so volatile.
Sometimes,
I wish I had the answers,
To questions I believed,
I was unprepared to face.
Sometimes,
I would settle for knowing,
Responses to situations that are,
By comparison,
Inconsequential.
And yet,
Unimportant quandaries,
Can befuddle,
As much as life altering ones.
And when such a happenstance presents itself,
The helplessness that sets in,
Because I can’t make a choice,
Leads to defeatist attitudes,
Inducing anger,
Just because of an inability,
To decide.
Sometimes,
I wish a moment in time,
Didn’t seem to possess,
Such an insurmountable proposition.
Sometimes,
I wish,
That every possible outcome,
Didn’t seem like such a lost cause.
Sometimes,
I wish these things,
And then,
I remember,
To give thanks,
For balance.
Without these occurrences,
Without such decisions,
Without life’s ups and downs,
Without times that seem,
Overbearing,
Indecent,
Unfair,
There would be no appreciation,
For having overcome,
What seemed otherwise,
Pointless,
Like a problem with no good answer,
Impossible.
If things were,
As I sometimes wish they were,
Then the times,
I do something,
Truly remarkable,
Would feel,
Mundane,
Unimportant,
Lackluster.
Life as a whole,
Is the ultimate example,
Of being unable,
To appreciate winning,
Without losing.
For it is loss,
That gives meaning,
To wins.
It’s loss that lends greater understanding,
To blessings of those that have,
Or still have,
What others may not.
Never being forced,
To know what it means,
To go without sustenance,
I don’t have as much appreciation,
For always being able,
To have access to food,
As someone,
Who scraps,
Just to feel a little less hungry,
From one day to the next.
But as one,
Who has known loss,
Of friends that have died,
From a young age,
I have let go of the idea,
That I need to hide,
My emotions,
My thoughts,
My feelings,
About others.
Having lived,
When good friends,
When family,
Died too young,
I refuse,
To let days pass,
And not tell someone,
That they matter to me,
That they matter to others,
That they are important,
That I love them.
Knowing those I can’t talk to anymore,
Can’t know the feelings,
Their deaths have made me come to understand,
Has led to me,
Informing anyone who will listen,
How vital they are,
To my existence.
These times,
That I wish,
I had more control,
Or could pass by easier,
Survive with less pain,
Had the right answers,
These times,
That in the moment,
Seem crushing,
Defeating,
These moments,
In the end,
Cause me to be more grateful,
For everything I do have.
And for this gratitude,
I am eternally grateful as well.
Being grateful for gratitude,
Maybe that’s my definition of joy,
Maybe it isn’t.
While I don’t really know,
What I do know,
These instances,
Don’t define me.
My responses to them do.
The way I carry myself as a result does.
Times are not always easy,
In fact,
Rarely so.
But it’s these difficulties,
That provide context,
And therefore meaning,
To life.