If Not Faced To Rid

Kept to us most precious,
With claims that remain dear and treasured...
But ironically freed,
From those experiences we had agonized...
With tears to cry and the asking of God,
'Why me? '
And eventually with patience,
Those clouds we question begin to disappear.
With a clearing before us of brighter skies.

And yet doesn't it seem...
If it had not been for experiences,
No one wished to dream...
Few would deny if not faced to rid...
Those precious memories we now keep dear,
Could not be for us kept treasured to realize...
If we had not dried our eyes to decide,
Life and the living of it has its ups and downs.
Although many are found walking around with frowns.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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