Those Things

Sometimes,
Things get in the way,
Becoming grand whales
When truly, they are
Nothing more than a boulder.

Sometimes,
Things get in the way,
And instead of simply
Walking around them,
Stepping over them,
Pushing them out of the way,
We lament about them.

Oh,
Why is this here?
Who put this here?
It's a conspiracy, you see.
I'm sure so and so
Placed it here.

And so we sit there
On this side of
These things, waiting
Patiently for them to
Disappear.

The never do,
You know.

Most times,
Those things will outlast us
And while we become
Old and gray,
Small and feeble,
Those things are as fresh
As a newborn duckling.

Most times,
Those things are created by
Us and sometimes,
They are as easy to do away with
As picking up a feather.

But most times,
They take work to overcome,
Sweat inducing work,
Back breaking work,
But if we do the work,
Oh, we will be on our way.

It doesn't matter which way
We are going,
Or what we will find
When we get there,
What matters is we got there
Despite those things.


Submitted to dVerse Open Link and Poets United.