A myth created by the weak;
An excuse for failings.
The oppressed can rise,
The frail find power
Even in an imperfect world,
The mighty fall:
Left to rot away
In self-created demise.
It’s so fun to see what words form as a result of a photo. For some reason, I get a little sad when I see tree graveyards. On this day, there were some pretty large trees left here. When I took the picture, I thought about how even the mighty can fall, and that’s how this poem came about.
I find hope in “David and Goliath”-like stories. I like the idea that the powerless aren’t destined to always be powerless. I also like the idea that the powerful can be stripped of it and returned to dwell among the masses.
Life isn’t always fair, and there isn’t always justice that we see, but I find comfort in knowing that one day wrongs will be judged even if I’m not there to witness it. Sometimes this is the only way I can cope with the ugliness in the world that leaves me feeling powerless to change it.
I hope you are able to find beauty and encouragement today!