ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

She gathers up the pieces of her life that scatter nigh
and wonders why so many born of love went so awry
the tender gestures offered form a mountain of regret
berating her compassion as a foolishness, and yet
she forges on beneath a blackened sky, her stars unlit
and asks her God again ‘Where do I fit?’

She marvels at the curling of a leaf in autumn time
at how the seasons know just when to come and go, sublime
in awe she watches busy ants in avid enterprise
and even human wickedness she sees through kinder eyes
she rallies and resists as dark despair bids her submit
and asks her God again ‘Where do I fit?’

But in a world of selfishness the selfless garner scorn
these gentle souls are aliens no matter where they’re born
these sensitives whose currency of art no longer rate
reciprocation, honour, from the self indulged mandate
that violates the brotherhood to which she must commit
and asks her God again ‘Where do I fit?’

No Glenny - those gentle souls are not aliens, nor do they garner scorn! They are lights that beckon to those who commit to the self-indulgent mandate - that the selfless refuse to submit to!

Her God, he reaches down to reassure her from above
and whispers on the breeze how proud he is she holds the love;
How proud she sees the goodness in each self-indulgent act;
within her eyes, the beauty of each person lies intact.
As seasons pass, her guiding light, to others she'll transmit,
and she will say 'I know, God, where I fit!'

You are such a wise lady IRene...that is a beautiful (reply) verse. I was trowling through my poems looking for something to post for the Youth section, & I opened this one out of curiosity...the file name was just 'fit'... I can't recall just when I wrote it, but I do vaguely remember why. With all of the sad things one sees during frequent hospital visits, this just seemed to apply to today in some ways. (It might have something to do with all the Arts funding cuts I think... )
Bless you love.
Glenny