Prosetry by Frank Malaba: Change
And so it happened. A door shut in my face. Again. In my mind’s ear, the soundtrack of a sad movie plays. It feels as though I might just get glued into the tarmac if I do not lift my feet quick enough. You see, I don’t remember ever having this feeling before. One where you feel like a canon was just fired into your chest and now you’re rushing to the nearest bowling alley to find a ball large enough to temporarily cover this hole. Wait… How am I still walking? Aaaah! I am not dead. At least not yet. I am experiencing a feeling I have always equated with death… Change.
All change is like death. Good change or bad change. Something is lost or gained. For that loss or gain to occur, something that was must cease. Our lives weave through change like water through a cracked rock. They will always get to the point where they are meant to get to. That’s just the way it is. That is not to say that we have to be content with where we’re at. Never be satisfied. But leave room for change. That is the only thing that is constant in our existence… Change.
Published by: Frank Malaba