Poem: Rarely Pretty

Rarely Pretty

The work is rarely pretty.
It is messy, and often done away
from the eyes of the public.
Loud sometimes. Quiet other times.
It is hard, often ugly,
often littered with little injuries
and a host of mistakes.

The work is rarely pretty.
Not the stuff of postcards or posts.
Sweat and fear and frustration are part of the mix.
Dos and redos. Never a straight path.
Always new work found in the rubble of the old.
Everything takes longer than you expected.
And more work.
Never simple. Never easy.
Not for the faint of heart.

The work is rarely pretty.

About this poem.

Everyone has battles they fight out of sight. Everyone has struggles to become their best selves.
Mostly we don’t see it. The work that makes the beauty.

That doesn’t make it any less magical. Or any less singing paeans to. So sing one to yourself and those you love. Become a bard. It doesn’t matter if you sing on key or now. It’s the reverence that makes the song.

Or it could be a poem about construction.

Tom

2 comments

  1. Thank you so much for this, Tom. It speaks to me so much today, as I struggle with physio after my knee replacement surgery. The exercises are hard, “often ugly and littered with little injuries and a host of mistakes . . . Do’s and redos. Never a straight path.” I hope I can create a beautiful life through the work, but it is not pretty. Thank you for reminding me it rarely is, but the results are.

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