Perhaps it was tax return time that set me off into a mood of discontent and grumpiness.
The accountant wanted something I wasn’t clear about,
and the investment adviser dug through her files for something perhaps I needed.
Organizational clarity was not a gift I inherited.
Ask the woman in my life.
So a depressed mood surrounded this April day,
In Christian Holy Week,
When Jesus died on a Friday,
For my sins, I was taught.
Self forgiveness was never a virtue I nurtured,
unlike exercises to prime my muscles I was blessed to learn.
I attribute my mood to
not eating a decent meal till mid-afternoon
and slumping in energy and a headache as a result,
which I realize is a medical not a spiritual cause — as I diagnose my soul.
Perhaps the day has been wasted, except that life is a closed system;
energy is neither created or destroyed.
This might be a time to stop whining,
And accept a lesson learnt as we crawl towards Easter,
On knees that haven’t knelt down in awhile,
whether at church or anywhere else.