The End

I was once in an audience who were asked, “What makes someone resilient? Where does resilience come from?”

I said that I thought it was just something that some people were born with. I have thought about it on and off since, and am still not sure of the complete answer. But I know it must be something installed at an early age and I know that, for me, it has something to do with having a dark sense of humour, and being able to laugh at yourself.

This poem is about resilience ~ I wrote it a few weeks ago and it makes me laugh because in it I am laughing at myself, and I also know that I always find a way to get back up on my feet again, even if I don’t remember that at the time:


I told my tale to the trees,
I whispered woes into the breeze,
I shouted in the splendid storm,
I swore and cussed til I was worn.

I quietly spoke to one oh one,
I thought that then my job was done,
It seems that it was not to be,
It seems they wanted more from me.

I told and told til I was hoarse,
And still they wanted more, of course,
And now I say, for pity’s sake,
There’s nothing left for you to take.

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