Life sometimes throws you ‘curve balls’
Seemingly out of nowhere:
They blindside, rob you clean of your ‘voice’…
You reach for keyboard or wield the pen
Coherent thought flees and page stays blank.
Open your mouth to wax eloquent, you think, but…
Backed up against the wall, thrown under the bus,
Face to terra firma awaiting death.
You launch your appeal to Joseph’s God…
Under God, you still can
Emerge from beneath and reclaim your voice.
Shoulders back, step boldly to the plate
Wait not for affirmation, applause or validation
Forward march and give your best shot.
Home runs come only…
…To those who swing.