It Is What It Is Poem by Kristina Stockamp
It Is What It Is
this life I live.
Alone, I tumble and cartwheel
across forgotten prairie's.
Sometimes my spirit
gets caught up in things,
and I wait for a strong gust
or a kind hand
to free me.
It is what is is,
this life I live.
But I have seen things-
where the wind begins,
and where it ends.
And there is enough
beauty and rage in those winds
to carry a tumbleweed
for life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 4:11:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
