the out of place

Years ago, I was renting a house. One of the gates on our fence was messed up, so I asked my dad if he could show me how to fix it. He did. About six months later, a hurricane blew through, and destroyed the fence. The only part of it still standing was the gate, because when my Dad fixed something, it STAYED fixed.

Sometimes people would ask why we had a gate, but no fence. “The fence wasn’t up to the challenge,” I’d answer.

We never know what will last in this life — friendships, jobs, relationships of all kinds. Storms eventually come through, however, and we see what’s still standing.

If we are.


you wonder if it has a point:
the out of place, the left behind —
but every body has a tale,
and it is best to keep in mind

that we appear incongruous
to those who do not know
the road it took to get us here
and why things turned out

so

 

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “the out of place”

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