For every person lies a road of discovery;
It begins as an honest impulse of the mind.
The first step marks a staggering progression,
On a life journey that is one of its kind.
Every step along the way requires effort;
You think to drink only a drop when you sup.
You fear that you will somehow fall short;
You cannot cope with the ocean in your cup.
Who am I, you think, but a mongrel keening,
A weakling in a big, bad world,
Living life with no clear sense of its meaning,
In the eye of the hurricane about to be whirled.
You fret and scold yourself, I don’t have a clue;
My mother, teachers, friends expect the world of me.
I just feel like I am swimming hopelessly in a stew,
That I will never fully develop the best of me.
Look inside to discover what is there for the taking;
Everything you need already lies waiting within.
The journey is already there for the making,
A voyage of happiness lightly dusted with chagrin.
Be honest, be true to yourself, be brave;
In the end, you will only have yourself to blame.
You have the power the whole world to save,
Leave behind your weaknesses on the path of shame.
Who am I but a simple man on a mission,
To finally discover what truly lies within,
To find the seeds that will lead to fruition,
To journey down a road only I can begin.
Funny that I should read this poem tonight after a day of taking the first steps toward claiming the Me I was meant to be! Definitely going in my library. Thank you!
Eh . . . I hear you loud and very definitely clear, John. I took my inner self, as cloudy as it was, and embarked upon a road of self discovery, although I did not think of it that way back then, I only understood it later, much later. Did my travels down the backside of normalcy make me a better person? Can't answer that question. I can say I now, of course, look at the world with keener eyes. I also understand the way things are with me today, is exactly what they should me. Now if I could do something about this scary thing about loss of memory, and also my tendency to completely screw up things. Don't know what to do about the memory thing, but I am most definitely working on the screwing up tendencies. Time will tell.
From First Love to its destructive end and on to new beginnings, Mary Angela Nangini's poems explore the birth and death of a relationship. The powerful poems are presented in two parts with an introduction to her next book My Ontario Beautiful. (Th
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