What Seems Good to Me
In Choices Poetry, imperfect daily options offer worst, bad, good, and best. Reach beyond self to see goodness as it may be.
I awoke this morning,
Cold wind, torn blossoms, forewarning,
This day I did curse,
Wishing worse upon the worst.
Not me, of course.
I do what’s right and love,
From deep below to high above.
Heroic self does linger dear,
Savoring victim status forever near.
No one understands!
Out of my hands.
I do my best.
Refuse the impossible quest!
There is no stain of fault in me.
I choose goodness, holy right—always—surely.
Never, think I, do an evil act.
Only in stress might I react.
A whispering voice nags my mind.
Turning me round to see behind.
My perfect ego rage,
As on bending treetops, ravens caw, set the stage.
Blind to haunting black, see only sepulcher white.
Mind focused, ignore growing blight.
Always choose good,
My inner, protective elf.
Searing ray breaks through the clouds.
Murder of crows doubts enshroud.
Chosen good—or goods?
Better for me—or best yet?
Understanding, vision perplexed.
Is what I want forever hexed?
Could me be my problem, see?
My choices demand not goodness be,
Only what seems good to me.
The raven flies away.
The dove finds a place to stay.
Not in seeking, hero, glorious self,
Find hope, happiness, or wealth.
The human curse I may deny,
But in honest reflection, wretched evil will belie.
In Creator blest
Do my best.
A. K. Frailey is the author of 17 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother of eight.
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