The Impossible - Poem by Joe Duvernay
Not all of my sorrows are couched in your surety.
You are sure that I find my sorrow
In those left outside our view.
Left out to starve, freeze, fend and find for themselves.
Whether a few feet, a town, a continent or a world away.
You think that I grieve for my lost control.
`I cannot make men refrain from harming others, because I am like and kind to both they that harm and those that are harmed.'
`I have no input here!
I can only pray and hope.'
But, if you or I believe such a thing,
That only prayer and hope are left to us, then the abyss does in fact,
Widen, beckon, chomp, point and prod us in.
But 'do' base these on some action
Acquired through your own hard thought on the problem.
'You' must think of this action that 'you' will do.
And know that this action is neither found when sought elsewhere,
Nor relinquished when confronted with failure,
because it is our surety and hedge against the impossible.
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