Yesterday, dread settled on me
like a roof of sorrow.
I counted my money
though I already knew what was there.
“It isn’t enough,” I moaned to the roof.
And the roof agreed, “It isn’t enough.”
All day my mind belabored the lament
until it sounded like truth.
Sleep was late coming.
But when I woke to the sounds I love
and the place I love
with sunrise blowing through the curtains
like a promise,
the roof was laughing.
“There’s more than enough,” it said.
“There’s so much more than enough.”
And I saw with blinding clarity
that money is only a thought,
the abundance or lack a mere idea
with which I can choose to torment
or bless myself.
*
Sherry Bronson 12/19/2014
writing for self-discovery 
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