Contentment

I don't often read poetry, but American Smooth, by Rita Dove found it's way into my hands. I was struck by four lines in a poem titled The Passage.

I suppose there are lonesome days before me,

but no more so than those that have already passed.

I can make myself contented.

We are having very good weather.

The poem is written in the form of an at-sea journal of a WWI soldier returning home. He reflects on the conflict he endured, his fellow soldiers and his own state of mind, while sharing tight quarters, cooped up on a troop ship that is continually on the lookout for submarine attack.

What struck me was this...though the circumstances of his life were dangerous, unpleasant and uncertain, he acknowledges what is and has been, consciously chooses a better frame of mind than the circumstances seem to indicate, then finds something positive to focus on.

I can make myself contented, he says.

I, too can opt for the gain brought by contentment that I choose. I turn away from pessimism and boredom, look ahead to hope as yet unrealized...and find contentment, sweet contentment.