Hard Rise Poem by William Coyne

We share with growing things struggles for life;

saplings, the overhanging canopy,
we, overbearing principality,
both in their way blocking life giving light,
add ever wearing burdens to the plight
endured and suffered so for growing's sake,
flourishing despite shadow and the ache.

Those that, and who, extend their limbs to touch
those precious rays that break through not too much,
not even enough to warm the cold ground,
may find themselves similarly crowned;
Those that, and who, despair and will not grope,
surely whither, rotting without hope.