The Fork - Poem by Scott Stevenson
your umbrella won't always hold out the rain. you'll see that
it gets you when the wind blows. likewise,
your dark glasses can't keep all the sun out.
your gloves are powerless against
the winter freeze turning your fingers purple.
you may think of everything.
everything might be simple and fine
for your eyes. but the road is still so crooked
as long as you're walking.
the rain will come to drown you.
the sun will rise up to cook you.
the cold will try to benumb your limbs.
you will see the fork in the road ahead, no matter
how blinded or beaten you've been. and you
will have to choose to deny
those poison darts in life,
to pretend you are so wisely protected...
or choose to take the trouble
as it comes.
Comments about The Fork by Scott Stevenson
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You