My headlights reveal only where we are going,
not where we have been—I am not in control.
Another takes my wheel and sets me in motion
in a direction not of my choosing.
I am a silent witness of many things.
I may not have ears, but this windshield
reveals and reflects the lives of the people
around me and within me.
Times have been tough for them,
an unseen shift resulted in change as
dull grey buildings standing as sentries
were painted with vibrant hues.
A truly intriguing and relatable poem for me Heather…. I suffered my first stroke 21 years ago, and at the time I was into the 15th year of caring for my wife, who suffered from severe MS. so I’ve spent many years limping around, appearing not quite right to others in the world, and pushing my disabled lady around in a wheelchair for the next 15 years… haha, I do smile about how funny we must’ve looked to those who didn’t know us… A couple of years ago I wrote this little poem .. and your words .. “I am not in control” … reminded me of this piece..
Decades of Storms
Over the decades
I’ve lived through many storms
Yesterday
I read about an Atlantic island storm
After midnight
I had a dream about my life’s storms
At dawn
I shall open my door to the storms
I will then wait for my storms
To vacate the dark
And ask the morning sunlight
“Am I still the pilot”
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