Inventory

The year is almost gone.

I marked my height against the wall, by last year’s mark

And found that I had grown a little.

Yesterday someone addressed me harshly.

“A soft answer turneth away wrath-”

And so I answered kindly, and my friend

Saw that he could not quarrel by himself.

Last evening, on the subway, someone shoved,

And thrust his newspaper into my face.

Once, all the feeling in me would rebel-

Now, unconsciously, I stepped aside.

Last year I loved nature, it is true;

This year it has become a part of me.

I have learned patience, sympathy, a deeper love.

My faith in God as One Who stoops to bless

Is now my realest reality.

Slowly- O how slowly - I progress,

And yet, I looked at last year’s life, and this,

And found that I had grown, a little.

By Barbara C. Ryberg