The Fell Clutch of Circumstance

Every time I was kicked by circumstance and chance, I picked up whatever broke that time and clutched those pieces to my chest and kept going. –afternoonofsundries, 1 + 1 = fearless

I have no one but myself to blame for failure,

Not withstanding the way life can be.

Voices may try to shout me down

Into the ground, but them I can ingnore.

Cuts and bruises on my heart and soul,

They will not fade quickly nor quietly in time.

Until I can stand and bear them with honor,

Silently, in myself, they must hide.

 

This poem is dedicated to my second eldest sister, the one I live with. She is the kind of woman who didn’t want to lead, would have been fine following, but life did not have that in store for her. Instead of refusing to face up to the trials in front of her, she faced forward, and with her arms full of children, stepped forward into the darkness of a paradoxically foreign and yet familiar path.

Today is her birthday. All Saints’ Day as well. Our mother went into labor for her on Halloween and she was certain that her ‘tricksy’ daughter would be born that night, but not so. Instead, she came in the morning like a blessing.

My sister is not perfect. I don’t think she’d want to be, because then she’d have nothing left to learn and she loves learning new things.

Life has not always been kind to her, nor to her children, but she doesn’t let that set the tone for the day, for the month, for the year. She chooses what that tone is, what her tune is and she dances. For her, circumstances shouldn’t dictate who we are, but rather, they should be something that helps us to dictate what we want to be.

Her head is bloody, but unbowed. (Invictus, William Ernest Henley)