Hope In A Tough Place Poem by Paula Glynn

I don't worship some mysterious, mythical god,
I guess I just worship myself and find practical ways,
Because answers are hard to come by,
And life and words can be like a game of scrabble,
It takes many twists and turns,
And I have had my fingers burnt,
My ego bruised and my eyes damp,
Because it had been my turn to cry,
I was just naive, a prisoner of my own heart,
I had not wanted love to depart,
But it did, and it hurt,
But the pain didn't get worse.
So I see people and places that get my vote,
And no matter how much you torture me,
I won't smoke those dirty cigarettes,
For I am not some sacrificial goat,
For I am a people person,
Not letting someone get the better of me,
And because of this, I enjoy my life,
Travelling all across England to Ireland, Scotland,
Wales and to the ends of the earth,
And, in spite of my naivety, have made many friends,
Friends with me today and tomorrow,
For I catch that train, plane, bus and boat,
And happily swim in the waters of life,
My own heart the lifesaver from drowning in the sea of love,
Because this heart has loved: although it has been bruised,
And wisdom is following heartbreak,
Life so tough, but I still strive everyday,
People and places to see and go,
Teaching me everything I need to know,
For survival is the game,
But I do not crave notorious fame,
I do not play dirty mind games,
Like a gangster stepping on a cigarette,
Thinkig he's cool,
When the only thing he is, is a fool.
So, I shall carry on, singing the traveller's song,
My heart no longer bitter and twisted like barbed wire.