Grit
Head down
Hide the pain
Never complain
Don’t falter or fuss
Stoical against storms
Brazenly bare a brave face
Endure the cruel slings and arrows
Patient, peace-loving, calm in crisis
Meeting hardship with equanimity
My characteristics formed in the womb
These attributes my inheritance
On display to the outside world
Within, emotions tumble
Resilience crumbles
Sensitive to shocks
Vulnerable
Wide open
Don’t yield
Cope
9/9/2026
The Words That Got to Me
Stoical against storms * nice sibilance and alliteration Meeting hardship with equanimity *Ah, yes; never let 'em see ya sweat! These attributes my inheritance *I'd say it's the British "stiff upper lip," but then how would that account for my own version of it? [It's rife in stoic German blood, too...]
This is the kind of poem that guts me because I have such tender feelings and respect and admiration for you. I so hate the thought of you presenting tough-and-oh-yes-everything's-fine-here, while inside - where it matters - there are turbulent waters. I wish we were neighbors, because then I could show up on your doorstep with my renown [well, you know, in my little corner of the world, at least...] chocolate chip whoopie pies [two chocolate chip cookies with a thick spread of homemade vanilla buttercream frosting between them] and tea. (I'd also have to bring coffee, though, because - please forgive me - I just hate tea. I have tried and tried and TRIED to like it, but I simply don't. But I'd eat the cookies with you, and we'd schmooze away the morning and end up laughing so hard by the time I went back home that we'd have made the day really good. At least you are able to get SOME of it those inner dregs out by using your immense talent to mitigate them. That's no small act of self-soothing. And it helps us who read it remember that adage about being nice to everyone because no one knows what anyone else is dealing with. So thank you for making me better about that today. xoxo