Morning Light

January 21, 2013

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Sometimes

You will wake up

under seven layers

of darkness

pressing hard

against your soul;

You will set down

your feet

and cross the floor

To find a

brilliant shard

of morning light

crashing through

the tiniest crack

of window shade,

piling up

all over

the bedroom floor,

And you will understand:

There is not a thing

you can do

about that.

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I had a business article published last week in Family Business Magazine, called “Business Family vs. Family Business.” It was a decidedly professional piece, aimed at furthering my perceived expertise in this arena among business owners.

However. Since it is  Poetry at Work Day, I thought it might be interesting to take that article and transpose those same “work” words of mine into another vehicle entirely: poetry. In doing this, I am totally stealing Megan’s and LL Barkat’s idea of breaking “normal” prose into lines, except using my own boring material rather than someone else’s. (In reading it, I think it would help to listen to an inspiring chorus.)

Here goes:

———————————-

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I recently met a woman –

I’ll call her Gladys –

who owns a substantial enterprise.

The only problem?

The business has been

consistently unprofitable.

She keeps it afloat

by infusing her own money,

to the tune of

several hundred thousand dollars

for each of the past four

years.

“How long can you keep that up?”

I asked

as we sat

at a local café.

She shook her head

and stared down into

her empty cappuccino cup.

“Not much longer,”

she said with a sigh.

“But things will turn around soon.”

Gladys, it turns out,

is so overly identified

with her business

that she can’t bear to face

the harsh reality

of her unraveling

situation.

Markets have shifted,

the competition is fierce

and her company’s once-sought-after services

have morphed into

a “so what?” commodity.

Instead of doing what’s necessary,

she’d rather maintain a façade

of smooth sailing,

with a chins-up,

“We’ll try harder next month”

approach.

She is more concerned with

the safety and protection

of her inner circle

than with facing

the hard business issues

head-on.

We may cluck our tongues

in disapproval over

Gladys’s eccentric denial,

but her situation is really

not so different

from that of any other

family business in which

relationships, tradition or comfort

are put above

the best interests

of the business.

It just may not look

so desperate.

—-

 

Fading

January 5, 2013

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The moon is slung

low tonight

in the Eastern sky

like an offhand remark

from a casual acquaintance

disregarded,

slinking softly

in the aftermath

of a silent recovery.

Here I am

basking in the sorrow

while a soul is revealed –

hovering lightly,

it touches skin

and turns to sand.

Not to worry, my dear,

for tomorrow we stand

we watch

we wait

for something

as if

all our sins

will wither

and fade

forever.