Sometimes I struggle...

THE WILD RIDE

Dark waters by the piers, a hiss of sea,
glitter of gulls scissoring the air,
defying a detritus of dredges,
the gloom of shipping channels,
deep and cold in murky worlds below.

Fog invades the port
where granite cloud hangs low,
strangling light,
draining energy, resolve,
as delinquent feelings swell and surge,
batter my heart
with shock and anger, fear.

Naked in the face of what’s to come,
fast forwarding through mystery,
I'm grounded, numbed
by permanent prognoses -
he, trapped in illness,
a crippling slow disease,
me, his carer, a bitter, lonely role.

Cold logic gives no answers -
rationality seems puny,
a stony, joyless thing.
No  barren rules
will give us what we need.
But endure we must.
We will.

Dabrowski studied the wild ride,
bore witness to
its search for dominance,
its bruising toll,
but watched meteors of creativity
flash bold defiance
across the boundless skies.

Wise Prof !
He’d tasted trauma,
but found sensitivity and love
can push through turmoil,
soften angst’s sharp edge,
can transcend rage, indignities
 transform our troubled souls.

And see, my global friends soar in.
Migratory birds
with strong wings beating,
they've come to comfort,
to lift me up, 

to join them now, 
to face 

the wild ride of humanity 
again.

© bba 05/01/2011