No Movement of Any Kind is Without the Risk of Injury

So you feel stuck

The Change isn’t coming soon enough

And you feel like it’s hopeless

Like nothing is actually changing

Because you cannot see the landing yet

Oh, you precious one

Change is in the very migration

One tiny step ahead of another, wings’ flap

You forge new pathways

New wind patterns of hope and discovery

We watched the beaver one day last spring

In Grand Portage, swimming with his logs

One at an exhausting time, maneuvering

His way around brush and other woody piles

Steadily bobbing along to maintain a home

The solution cannot be had without movement

Change moves, and we move with it

The climber passes Green Boots on their way up

Everest; that man lost his life as he endeavored

Each new ascent now uses him as a sober marker

I see all your steps, small and steady

You move with the air current, and it carries you

Your determination creates new patterns

River into the sea; wings emerge from a chrysalis

No effort is wasted. Keep your holy momentum