The Little Mind-Boat

Lurching from side to side,

the winds of culture, education, and relationships

washed my little mind to and fro.

 

My little mind, asail at sea,

slips from topic,

to terror,

to truth,

to tracking down land.

 

Unsure and searching for a place to go,

I frantically grab at the air around me.

 

No one.

 

On the deck, pelted by rain,

assailed by violent squalls of stress,

burdened with responsibility,

chills frantically wrack my frame,

I breathed.

 

In.

Then out.

 

If this is what I’m dealt, so be it.

If this is my hand, I’ll play the game.

The game of life.

I will play, and I will succeed.

 

I stand up tall and

smile at the crying sky.

Just because clouds weep doesn’t mean

I can.

 

Buckle down and grip the ropes.

Angle the sail to catch the wind.

Brace yourself as your mind-boat breaks waves.

You are on your way.

 

The storms of stress had pinned me to the deck.

I caught my breath, embraced the fray,

and grew up.

I grew bigger than my problem.

 

I grew

to control it.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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