Control was never hers to take,
‘Twas never up for grabs,
Though she found herself so often
In a sulk and keeping tabs.
“If I could just..” She tried to say,
Grasping to contain the sand
Slipping by grain through her fingers,
Seeking hard the upper hand.
Insane by all definitions
This repeated grab for control,
Invisible witness to fear,
This groaning of heart and soul.
Yet, each time she repeated the cycle,
Grasping that which cannot be held,
Squeezing with all of her might
To do this she feels compelled.
So much effort simply wasted,
Tilting at windmills for control,
That was never hers to have
That was never to be her role.
Like the swimmer afraid of the water,
Panic stricken, she’ll kick and thrash
As the water runs right through her fingers
Her attempts so foolishly brash.
For the water she cannot hold,
Control seeking head to toe.
She knows she’d be oh so much better
If she’d simply relax and let go
The water thinks, “what is she doing?”
As it oozes up over her head.
“If she’d just let go and stop fighting,
If she’d rest in me instead.”
“I would hold and gather her safely
Molecules bonding, together a team
Holding her safely and gently
And her life I would redeem.”
But the thrashing goes on unabated,
Trust a concept she cannot conceive.
So the waters of life take her down,
Because she refused to believe.
by Angela Masters Young © 5/2/2012
What does this poem mean to you? Tomorrow’s post will explain what brought me to the point of creating this poem, but in the meantime, I hope you will apply it to your own life and share how you internalize it. Do you struggle for control over things that aren’t yours to control? Can you tell the difference? Does the struggle bring you the peace you desire? Comments and feedback are welcome