Sometimes a Masterpiece

The thing is, I always get back up.
That is the one thing I have learned about myself.

I do not take it for granted, the getting up.
There were times I did not believe I would,
did not believe I could.

If I were to do the math, I am not certain
whether there have more good or bad times.
But then, it is not a math equation.
It has more to do with the scars, their depth
and where exactly you have been cut.
But I have learned math has nothing to do with it.
We see the math through eyes
crippled by whatever lens we are given.
Those lenses can be chosen, but it is work.

I do not take it for granted, the getting up.
There were times I did not believe I would,
did not believe I could.

But I did. Every time. Slowly. Always more
slowly than I wished. So slowly that at times
I did not feel the healing. But at times,
our feelings lie to us. We all can heal.
But it involves….

getting up.

I am under no illusion that I will not
find myself knocked down again.
God does not protect us from being knocked down.
That is not what he does.
What he does is heal. And makes sure
we do not heal alone.
What he does is make it so we can stand again
and enjoy what is on the other side.

I am happy with my age.
Happy with the broken times,
not that they happened,
not the pain they cause,
but happy to learn the one thing worth knowing:
That I always get up.
And there is always joy afterward, when I allow it.
A new life. Full of surprises and love and the unexpected.
Life in new frames is still art,
and sometimes a masterpiece.

About this poem

Normally, I spend a lot of time cutting a poem down. In this case, however, I started with the last two lines and additions kept showing up. I am still not sure the poem should not have been the last two lines alone, but I seem to be in a verbose mode this morning.

The picture was taken in my art studio.

Tom