There came a time when man decided to forget his Source and do life on his own. Since then it has been a game of catch up. Our progress has been nothing to shout about but there would be those who would argue with me about that.
But for me it has been a matter of chasing down the first ‘why’ ever uttered by the child in search of a palatable reason for someone insisting he do something. I don’t think it ever is a matter of courage though in retrospect it certainly is. No one knows who will pursue that first ‘why’ and where the journey leads. And I tell you this, sometimes it is not pretty.
Those who observe know that it is a something, but they don’t know what. They realize awesomely, that it takes courage, a kind not familiar. I say it mostly becomes a stubbornness to not falter and be a stumbling block.
Courage is not garnered overnight nor is it stored for all time. It is fought for every morning in bathrooms and bushes around the world. It is worn, with conviction man hopes, into breakfast. I know this and everyone who nurtures and is responsible for others know this. We hope to present ourselves to the new day and convince our loves it is a day worth the living.
The following poem was written in 2013 and is a favorite of mine realizing that courage takes practice.
Found Courage. . .
I ask,
where did you find your courage?
On what tree was it hanging
that you could reach up
and pluck it from its hiding place
to wear as epaulettes
on your shoulders?
The children whisper during the night,
saying their Ave’s to each other,
hoping they will grow into courage
with a red badge to wear.
You say,
they are blinded.
They cannot see their milky courage
like cream rising to the top;
one day to merge
through alerted senses
that call for unthinkable strength.
They have been practicing every day
since they were born.
They will learn that courage
comes with each breath taken
and like the freedom they take for granted
must be won every day.
One day they will find it wears
like a second coat of paint.