Rio Grande Dark and Light

It seems its only job is to thwart me,

that illness that shrivels my strength to a crinkly rose petal

that neighbor whose threats break down doors into may past

where I once huddled shivering

that job that presses like a spring gale

always wanting more.


But when I call on the Beloved

I see. . .

a life of beauty shaped by the pressure

of those very counterweights.


The illness teaches me to be honest.

The neighbor reminds me where love is.

The job transforms all work into service.


Like the weightlifter pressing barbells

droplets of sweat form on the brow

as the muscles strengthen.


So when I want to curse

the pain, frustration, boredom and despair

I turn and instead say

Thank you!

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