Thursday, April 15, 2010

I was climbing up a mountain-path

With many things to do,
Important business of my own,
and other people's too,
When I ran against a Prejudice
That quite cut off my view.

My work as such as could not wait;
My path quite clearly showed,
My strength and time were limited,
I carried quite a load;
And there that hulking Prejudice
Sat all across the road.

So I spoke to him politely,
For he was huge and high,
And begged that he would move a bit
And let me travel by.
He smiled, but as for moving!-
He didn't even try.

And then I reasoned quietly
With that colossal mule:
My time was short- no other path-
The mountain winds were cool.
I argued like a Solomon.
He sat there like a fool.

Then I flew into a passion,
I danced and howled and swore.
I pelted and belabored him
Till I was stiff and sore;
He got as mad as I did-
But he sat there as before.

And then I begged him upon my knees;
I might be kneeling still
If so I hoped to move that mass
Of obdurate ill-will-
As well invite the monument
To vacate Bunker Hill!

So I sat before him helpless,
In an ecstacy of woe-
The mountain mists were rising fast,
The sun was sinking slow-
When a sudden inspiration came,
As sudden winds do blow.

I took my hat, I took my stick,
My load I settled fair,
I approached that awful incubsus
With an absent-minded air-
And I walked directly through him,
As if he wan't there!

An Obstacle:
~Ms. Charlotte Perkins Gilman

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