“A poem is the very image of life expressed in its eternal truth.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Sunday, October 7, 2012

The Way Out


When the world crashes,
all around us the rubble
litters the pathways.

It remains my hope
to keep my will resolute
in the face of doom.

It is a true test,
when all the ways out seem blocked,
to find one open.


3 comments:

Gail said...

HI JUDY - and sometimes, the rubble all around us after the crash holds the key to where the opening is. Great poem.,
Love Gail
peace....

Karen said...

So far, I have been able to find a little crack to squeeze through.

Judy at Peace Be With You said...

Gail, I'm searching in the rubble.

Karen, ... and for a crack.