The Things You Didn't Choose

By Jarom Petrich

The past can be a cauldron

of the most destructive brew,

Like a vice it grips the future

of those who boil and stew.

For he who lets the injuries

of things now long forgot

by those who did the hurting

is the one who’s in the pot.

And no amount of boiling

in a bath of hate and heat

can heal a wound or broken heart

or make its bitter sweet.

The heart’s not just a muscle

that pumps all day and night;

it will also harbor memories

of things that weren’t right.

But unlike the other muscles

that grow harder when they're stronger,

a hardened heart holds little joy,

and makes its owner suffer longer.

Painful slights and grave injustices

are carried there by choice.

Why grant such precious lodging

to another's hands or voice?

Far better to forgive the hurt

and walk within their shoes.

Compassion comes from treading long

the roads you didn’t choose.

The greatest gifts will often hide

down paths you’d never gladly trod,

so you would surely miss them

if not guided there by God.

Who would crown themselves with sorrow

burdened down by heavy cross?

Or in sleepless darkness swallow

the bitter agonies of loss?

But each strange pair of sandals

That you swap out for your own,

will guide your feet more fully

down the path that leads back home

For a cold and empty honor

is the one that isn’t earned,

and fleeting is the knowledge found

that isn’t deeply learned.

The deep scars give perspective

changing the way you see;

they make you so much more

than the unscarred you could be.

While those who dodge the punches

will froth with angst and ire,

they fail to learn this simple truth:

What purifies is fire.

The black eyes life will give you,

though they will swell and bruise,

can help you see the purpose

in the fights you didn’t choose.

And countless souls fall down deep holes

and come up short of finding

the answer to this riddle old:

Oh, why the constant grinding?

For though you may not relish

all the things you must endure,

the furnace of affliction

is what makes your metal pure.

Truth and strength and happiness,

and all things that are good,

Are the counterweights you forge there

through tears and sweat and blood.

For life to grant you knowledge

of the things you highly cherish,

the dross and blemish from your soul

must be allowed to perish.

The more you live the more you’ll learn

that pain in equal measure

to the heights of joy you reach in life

is half of life's great treasure.

Yes, occasion might permit you

time to feel the sun and rest,

but only sunny days and restful nights

make for a lousy test.

It’s your attitude that sets your course

and courage win or lose,

that will paint your life's great portrait

from the things you didn't choose.