I might even have dipped my toes
In the water of surfing
if I’d just stopped working sooner
left more time to get to Knock airport
if I’d chosen the main road instead of the back road
if I had been travelling slower
even though the road was dry
if the farmer had trimmed the hedge
on the blind bend
if the tractor was not pulling a wide trailer
if it hadn’t rained two days before
if the drain under the road wasn’t blocked
if I hadn’t braked just where
the water flowed across the road
if the van hadn’t skidded on the slick
I wouldn’t have worn this splint
for twenty-five years
I might not have done some teaching
I might not have become a draughtsman
I might not have moved back to England
I wouldn’t have opened that restaurant
joined choirs, made frozen yoghurt
made this house out of a stable
lived this life beyond the bend…
© Andrew Wilson, 2025
Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Melissa Lemay in Poetics invites us to write about pivotal moments in our lives…
It sounds like that change that really was for something way better… really a story that tells us that we sometimes need time to reevalute our disasters.
Carrying on as a jobbing signwriter on the West coast of Ireland would have been a slow slide into quaint obscurity for sure, Bjorn…
Your poem so clearly and interestingly depicts my belief that the worst things that happen to us can lead to the best things. So effectively expressed, Andrew…and such a relief to have that potential for a negative ending transformed into a happy one. I love your poem.
Thanks, Judy, I think I trusted the universe to provide because I went through the accident, one year on crutches, a second op., with considerable equanimity lol
The butterfly effect illustrated.
Life has a way of directing our path, if only it was not as painful like what you endured. But all’s well that’s ends well as it seems you lead a fulfilling life notwithstanding the change of direction.
It was only moments of iintense pain but then a lifetime of occasional dis comfort, but you are right, I neededa redirection…
Ah – the parable of the Lost Horse:
An old farmer lived near the frontier with his son and a single horse. One morning, they woke to find the horse had broken through the fence and run away.
The neighbors gathered, shaking their heads sympathetically. “How terrible!” they said. “You’ve lost your only horse. What bad luck!”
The farmer listened quietly, then shrugged. “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
A week later, the horse returned—but not alone. It had joined a herd of wild horses and led them all back to the farm. Suddenly the farmer owned a dozen magnificent animals.
The same neighbors returned, their eyes bright with admiration. “How wonderful!” they exclaimed. “You’re rich now! What incredible fortune!”
Again the farmer listened calmly. “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
The next month, while trying to tame one of the wild horses, the farmer’s son was thrown violently and broke his leg. He would walk with a limp for the rest of his life.
Back came the neighbors, their faces creased with concern. “How awful!” they cried. “Your poor son! What a terrible thing to happen!”
The farmer tended his son’s wound and replied as before: “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
The following spring, war broke out. Military officers swept through the village, conscripting every able-bodied young man for the army. When they came to the farmer’s house and saw his limping son, they passed him by.
The neighbors, whose own sons had been taken to fight in a distant war, returned once more. “How fortunate!” they said, their voices mixed with envy and relief. “Your son gets to stay home because of his injury. What a blessing in disguise!”
The old farmer looked across his fields where his son worked contentedly among the horses, and smiled his familiar smile.
“Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
Sometimes life just happens, and we are surprised at where it leads us. Great poem, Andrew!