Umbrageous

I took no umbrage.

I hoped to be understood.

I took no offence

When others would.

She later asked, “Where is your pride?”

How would I know when to be hurt?

My pride in childhood was denied.

To the quick, left blood on my shirt.

I had no ego to boast or repent of

Until I read the Ayn Rand books,

All I could find; discovered Rachmaninov,

heroes, and villains with deceit in their roots.

Sadly the archetypal heroes were thin

on the ground while the villains bred fast.

It did seem hard to achieve a win

Paying as I was for my life at last.

I can’t even say I went home and cried.

I only tried to keep hope and romance alive.

God surely knows how hard I tried.

I did everything I could, but thrive.

I painted fools with heroes blood

Hoping they’d rise and become

While I jumped over puddles full of mud.

So deep and dirty my heart turned numb.

Fantasy filled my idle moments.

I’d run away to safety as one will

While witches with voices so shrill

Dodging judgement and its omens,

made the known terrain hostile.

I’d go out sailing, catch the squall.

Hang over the edge for a long while

Fly over dark waters into the wind

Which in dreams is always kind.

Except when it totally drops,

Leaving no mark as it stops.

Water like glass reflects the whole sky

The small yacht’s mast clinks up high.

I waited in stillness for wind to exhale

Dreaming is apparently, “beyond the pail.”

I knew it would blow me away with glee.

Just the yacht, the wind and me …

I take no umbrage.

I hope to be understood.

Offence is hard work

And I’ve no room for blood on my shirt.