Wednesday, February 9, 2011

I Bequeath

I give to you the knowledge that you are not
a wounded bird, but rather a rising phoenix.
I pledge to you strength and courage
because I can’t give you a carefree life,
they don’t exist. I give you the reality
that nothing sustains itself indefinitely, not

pain nor joy. You are the writer of your story
you start each day fresh with a clean slate.
it’s up to you what you write, paint, or accept
on your page. I can’t promise you no mistakes
on that perfect paper but you can paint over it
the way you choose, either black or white,
or a hundred other colors in between.


Mary said...

Judy, the ending of this poem is stunning. We all have some choices in how we least most of the time!

Judy Roney said...

Yes, most of the time, Mary. The every day things we do. Catastophe is always out of our control for the most part. We can't change it so hopefully we will make good choices in the things we can alter.

flaubert said...

This is so beautiful Judy.


ms pie said...

the power to change in the stroke of a brush and some paint.... awesome...

Celestial Dreamz said...

this is beautiful. i always have loved phoenix. :)