Reaching out my hands to the way things used to be
beyond my grasp, it’s so high no one can reach,
Papa don’t yell, Mama don’t preach
I just look into my future and no further can I see.
Everyone’s out for themselves
pointing a finger and not lending a hand,
everyone fighting wars
not trying to comprehend.
I try to fight it, I try to win,
just to get kicked down and push myself up again.
So much to learn, so much to teach
but it seems as though it’s all beyond my reach.
Curbing corners, bending rules
trying to educate closed minded fools,
closing my mind to the fears
that I’ve collected all these years.
Trying to make the most of time
and leave the least I have to behind,
trying to ease an unrested mind
looking beyond cash value to what it’s really worth,
I find myself absorbed in the earth.
The time has come and it is breach
yet so many things are still beyond my reach.
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)