Tuesday, 9 August 2016

Serendipity



Everything is achieved through failure,
every destination worth reaching
arrived at in retreat.

This poet's tongue is chipped sharp
and purposed like a flint arrow head
launched hopefully towards his prey
only because he botched the axe
he was originally trying to make,
and found a fragment he could rescue.

The quarry he eventually provides
falls under the edge of his blade
only after what he was first pursuing
has escaped, and he turns his attention
elsewhere. And yet

he witnesses the sunset
without sensing defeat, heading home
along the shoreline at the end of the day,
and as the tide recedes once more
after its most recent advance into the bay,

on the shingle that is revealed by its retreat,
he finds below high tide, a gem stone
washed there by chance, and it will adorn
his wife's throat, and his children will eat. 

To live is to retreat without regret.
The wind will take our arrow where it may.
If we don't accept its loss with grace we make sharp
an arrow that will pierce our heart some other day.


No comments:

Post a Comment