For my teaching reading and writing class, we had to take sometihng we had written earlier in the class and make it into a four page piece. I've never tried this before, but I chose a poem. I chose The Dark Things. I don't know if this helps or kills the poem. It a four poem piece. Each poem is connected to the others, but hopefully distinct. I have no idea if this is good or not and I'm not just being modest. I'm just not sure. Its really long, so if you don' tlike poetry, this isn't for you. Well, here it is:
Four poems about you, for whenever you need them most:
Part 1: What you are not.
You are not too small.
You are not too unimportant.
You are stronger than you know.
You are not too tired,
You are not what they say.
You happen to have what it takes.
You are not alone.
You are not undone.
You are not as fearful as you think.
You are not unlovely,
You are not a coward.
You are not about to fall apart.
You are not too weak.
You are not too faint-hearted.
You have what it takes for one more step.
So take it, for then, you will find you have the strength for the next.
Because this is not your stop.
Part 2: What is in you.
Some days, the dark things win.
The days that are deep down and heavy hearted.
Those dark things are down inside our shaded souls, tremendous, and terrifying, and cold.
When try as we may, we cannot imagine life any other way.
We cannot pull ourselves from those dungeons, deep, and spiraled down.
We know what it is to want.
But, we know too, that that’s not all we are.
We know in us lies light and loveliness, beauty and bravery,
and the quiet, wild, courage to carry us through.
but, that all seems worlds away in some high castle tower.
the dark things win.
Part 3: What belongs to you.
This is your adventure.
It is not what you thought it’d be.
It is not always as exciting as you’d once imagined,
at least not on the surface.
It is darker and scarier than you could have dreamed.
Some of the days seem long, and tiring, and you don’t always feel like
the hero you’d always thought of,
Strong, valiant, and brave.
Other days seem difficult and impossible, the kind they never told you about.
The kind filled with back breaking work, or even the slow strange tears of failure.
There is sweat, the kind that causes you to stop for just a moment and wipe your brow, before you just keep plodding on.
It’s not at all like they said.
It doesn’t feel like an adventure.
But it may be one still, an adventure that is,
and it’s yours.
There, beneath what seems so dim and cold.
Or, so ordinary and normal, not the stuff of some great story.
The quiet slow kind of adventure,
the kind that makes you who you’ve always wanted to be.
Someday it may come, quicker than you dreamed, or slower,
that is not for me to say,
Someday, You will find yourself again on some marvelous mountain top.
Standing on two strong legs,
And that will be your adventure too.
You will have conquered, and fought, and rejoiced, and sang.
But this, this dark and ordinary day,
this one moment,
this, dear friend,
This is your adventure.
Live it well.
Part 4: Where you must be..
When you have made it through,
when you have crossed safely to the other side.
when you are feeling strong,
nd have walked with straight sure steps for awhile:
Somebody carried you,
Whether through words or deeds,
Whether an embrace or glance,
someone helped you up and walked that bravest mile
Whether aware or not, they were there.
They were there to speak hope and life,
or to be silent.
to listen, to search with you, to sit with you, to laugh with you.
They were there to make you feel normal for a moment,
they were there to tell you the tale of their own strange story,
a journey not unlike your own.
They were there with gentle hands, or the courageous caring of someone who has walked that road.
Back when their world was harsh, and unforgiving, and dark.
They were there to pass along sand bags, or buckets of water,
they stood in the night watches with you, in those long awful times.
Somebody carried you,
They were there.
They were guardian healers,
The makers of a safe place, a landing strip, lit up in the night,
when you needed a harbor from some storm.
What you must remember is this:
You must be there,
wherever there is.
You must be a quiet place
a strong place
a knowing place.
You must be ready with tears
or with smiles
or with silence.
Or with hands ready to work, and a brow ready to sweat.
You must tuck someone under your wing for just awhile,
You must make a place for them to breathe.
You must be there.
You must remember where you once walked,
And that now you have what it takes,
to be there.