The Cataract

So I will steal this little time reflective,
mindful of the good and of the hurts
that I have had or have inflicted,
and by their light inspect the occult kernel of my life.
These rests are never long enough;
the gripping strain will come again to catch me
up in heaven's cataract
down which we boaters course;
but to that roaring water let me take,
so close to broken but not yet,
at least one realization,
how much this grinding strength is true
measure of the worth of what we're given,
and remember that, if just in part,
the coldness and the kindness of the world
are in, not it, but me.

November 24 2010