Not one of my own poems this time, but a favourite:
Sometimes things don’t go at all,
from bad to worse. Some years muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives;the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.
Sheena Pugh (b.1950)
This poem has been knocking at the back of my mind for a while. And thanks to google, I managed to fetch it out – and having found it and felt consoled (if a little weepily!), I wanted to share it with all my patient readers out there. May it happen for you, indeed.