No Lament

Taste the bitterness of disappointment:
why has this been true for me for so long?
It has been an awkwardly-received gift to me,
to help me learn compassion –
all those before me, and all those around this planet,
who have no options;
they know.

I have my family; they constitute my riches.
Along with the land, water, and sky –
all of which belongs to no one and everyone.
The trees of spring, summer, and fall, they stand witness.
Spring or summer or fall, their multitude of
leaves covering the black branches, and the ground beneath.
Rivers and creeks with their beds of stones or mud;
the wetlands, rich with a fecundity of aquatic plants;
grasslands, and the flowers and grasses surrounding all.

Amid all this, the many animals, birds, fishes;
why would I need to even remind myself of them?
They fill my life with wealth: a value unknowable.

Then I count up the many other sources
that lie abundantly to my right and left:
And I can still find plenty to eat.
It’s true; there’s plenty of food, indeed more than I
could ever need…
books, and enough clothing, blankets on cold nights.
A raincoat, and bags to carry my tools.
And the music fills my ears and the air.
So why is there any reason to lament?
After all, I have taught myself, in a few moments,
all my many reasons for gratitude.

11/6/2007. wpm.