They tell me, "Be a supple reed
and bend as savage water rushes by.
Just let the storms of life break over you.
You will not break in wilding wind if you are limber,
if you yield and bow."

But I have never been a reed or water weed,
and yielding does not come that easily.
A stiff backbone has helped me to survive--
won't let me bend to every passing gale--
I was not programmed to be supple in the wind.

Sometimes I want to scream into the gale
with all the breath I have within.
Sometimes my stubborn stick of self breaks off,
is washed away, and rushes down,
is tossed this way and that in life's relentless sea.

And yet, Is driftwood not as prized as reed or weed?