Knowing when to back away
And be still, to will, or rather
Allow it to work its way
Despite any urgent wishing,
Despite the sun coming up now
Over the mountain outside my window
Isn’t something innate with me.
How could it be trained
As I was to act and change
Everything in my path
To olive drab? I’ve seen
The sun rise above chaparral
At Camp Pendleton, Cheju-do,
And Twenty-nine Palms.
There is always something
One can do to make it change
If one has the strength
And isn’t afraid to act, at least
Until the freezing of night
Creeps into morning and one’s
Cold fears are rendered still.
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