The glassy sea is slippery; the dirt road is full of grit.
Everywhere I look is eerie; maybe I’d better just sit.
I got up and shut my eyes, dared to cross the sea
only to find midst groans and sighs, heartbreak as reality.
Perhaps the road would do the trick, bring me presents like Ole St. Nick.
But when I opened my eyes to see, the gravel and dirt blinded me.
I vowed I wouldn’t be left out; I wasn’t about to sit and pout.
I decided to try just once more; there must be something besides sores.
I went along the meadow lickety split.
It was fun until I hit a solid wall that made me fall and wonder
why? where? what on earth is really my lot?
Midst my sobs I finally looked up when I heard,
“Lift your cup, take my hand. Together we’ll possess this land.”
So what if the sea is glassy and the dirt road full of grit.
In the meadow there’s still a wall and I will fall, but it’s different now.
I can’t explain how. It happened when I looked up and held my cup.
~ Betty Doser