Gliding along with the bubbling of water,
My boat gently rocks me till I fall asleep—
A hand on the oar and my head on a pillow,
With frolicking breezes caressing the deep.
Life is good.
Why should I listen to sounds from the wood?
Beyond the tree sentinels, clamoring is heard.
It mocks me by day, and it haunts me by night.
There’s shouting and groaning with clashes of war—
My comrades are suffering, but I’ve left the fight.
Life is mine.
Don’t I acquire the right to resign?
The battle raged fiercely with hardly a chance
To rest in the forest or just catch a breath.
Do I not deserve a vacation away
From fighting so long against evil and death?
Life is real.
Are storms approaching, is that what I feel?
These rocks and swift rapids will seem treacherous when
Gray clouds veil the sunshine and winds pick up speed.
If enemies find me, I’ll have no defense—
No comrades to help me when I am in need.
Life is grave.
How can I slumber while lives could be saved?
How dared I desert the battalion upstream?
I pledged my allegiance, but here I recline.
I’m prey to the foe and disgrace to my King—
His side will gain victory, but it can’t be mine.
Life is short.
Could I fill voids that I left back at fort?
The noises still echo o’er forests and fields,
But this time my voice will be ringing afar.
No more shall I drift, but with armor and zeal,
I’ll join the King’s forces, for conquerors we are.
Life is joy.
Why am I here but my all to employ?
-Rynelle Penner
Inspired to Inspire 