Brian Laidlaw

Poet | Songwriter | Educator

Godspeed

 

i

 

Godspeed to your frightened little self

It all felt like a game when you were thrown

Off the wooden bridge in the middle of the forest

Borne by the river and raised by its torrents

But a stick caught in a river’s race

Is at the mercy of the river’s pace

And at the mercy of the course it takes

 

 

ii

 

Godspeed to your frightened little self

You worry like a child at the fair

And whirl in this eddy like a sickening ferris wheel

Circled starry orbits but none of them were real

You saw perfection staying in one place

Took stagnation as a form of grace

At the mercy of the river’s pace

 

Godspeed to your mighty little self

I’d rather be a stick than be a stone

I’d rather be a-drifting than call the bottom home

 

 

iii

 

Godspeed to your mighty little self

No deluge, dock, or dam will block the way

The estuary calls with several theories and fates

She suggests that you stay calm and let gravity navigate

The world is a carnival, the heavens are a carousel

Dreams are always circular but the days are always parallel

And if they stone you and kick you in the face

You stick up for the river and its pace:

The current rocks you forward into place

 

Godspeed to your mighty little self

I’d rather be a stick than be a stone

I’d rather be a-drifting than call the bottom home