Cog
I am but cog
A little cog
In a big, big wheel
Wheel turns rapidly
Rushing over bumpy roads
Avoiding crashes
Speeding people and
things
To their destinations.
I am unseen, unmentioned
except when I come loose
and fail.
Then I am brutally pushed
Back into my small place.
I dream great dreams
Of greatness
Recognized and achieved
And wish to be more.
But look at the word recognized!
There is cog
That little word
Right in the middle
Without, which recognized
Would utterly fail.
Cog is needed.
Nothing can work
Or go forward
Without cog.
I am cog.
I hold things together.
I am necessary.
I serve
Something greater
Than myself.
What greater
Purpose can one have?
Ultimately, everyone
Is blessed to be cog
In the universe.
6-7-12
Ms.
Billie M. Spaight
The backstory to this poem is that I wrote it after my best friend of 40 years—Barbara Nell Perrin--died. Because we worked together, I was called upon to do more until her replacement could be found. Alas, on my way to her memorial service, complete with speech and collages in hand, I tripped over a tiny step and broke three bones in my left ankle. More about that later. . . .Billie
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