The Poet’s Song

In the hollow of a tree,
Lives a poet who is free
And as open as each day is born,
Sits there in the shade from dusk til dawn.
This poet is so very old, ​​​​
As old as the branches that enfold,​​​​
The hardy frame that holds this poet’s soul
And here is how their poem goes:

Be patient about the small things,
Be courageous about the big things,
Be loving, kind and cheerful,
Your god’s awake, so carry on,
And sing your song.

I come to this poet in distress,
I say, ‘My life is such a mess,
I am looking for some sanctuary…
What is it that you can offer me?’
The poet looks towards the sun,
Smiles and offers out a hand,
Then beckons me to come in close
And this is what the poet spoke.

Be patient about the small things,
Be courageous about the big things,
Be loving, kind and cheerful,
Your god’s awake, so carry on,
And sing your song.

How can it be so very simple?
I want to question prod and probe,
But I can’t speak I can only stand
As the sunlight turns the leaves around to gold.
The next day I go back to that tree,
The space is dark and it’s empty,
Yet in the yellow leaves I think that I can read,
The words that the poet said to me.

Be patient about the small things,
Be courageous about the big things,
Be loving, kind and cheerful,
Your god’s awake, so carry on,
And sing your song.

Now sometimes in the darkness I can be,
So full of fear and anxiety,​​​
‘What can I do,’ I ask, ‘to ease my pain?’​​​
I recite the poet’s lines again.

Be patient about the small things,
Be courageous about the big things,
Be loving, kind and cheerful,
Your god’s awake, so carry on,
And sing your song.

Carry on.
And sing your song.

Carry on.

Sing your song.

Song by Roy Hutchins and Sue Bradley
Picture: Elena Caldera

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