While it’s not poetry, I feel that such epiphanies as the following certainly have potential for the poetic. Regardless of whether or not it results in any verse, I am drawn to share my opinion nonetheless.
Waking to no water in the apartment complex can be a frustrating experience, especially without prior warning/notification, and doubly especially when we have schedules to maintain. Instead of venting that irritation, I wish that I had sooner grasped the greater significance of the event:
Every day, I take my clean, running water for granted. I should be thankful for all of the shortcomings of my plumbing system, because it means that I have daily access to such a system ― moreover, one that performs flawlessly 98% of the time.
I should be respectful toward the intermediaries who handle my frustration (and that of all of the other annoyed apartment tenants) admirably, and remain indebted to their patience and willingness to address the issue.
I should be grateful that I live in a developed area; that this area includes my gym; that the gym has even nicer shower facilities than my apartment; and that I have a functional vehicle to take me there and back with time enough remaining to leave my precious schedule virtually uninterrupted.
I should be appreciative that I have access to clean drinking water at any of a number of surrounding grocery stores.
I should be humbled by my haste to insist that I have the right to be upset about waking to such an inconvenience when, elsewhere, there are people literally dying of thirst or disease for lack of potable water; or when their governments are either unable or refuse to establish such a public water system.
I have no such “right.” I am not entitled to the luxury of “civilized” living, nor to my petty desire to maintain my schedules and appointments, nor have I the license to blame someone else when a blemish appears on the sweet, ripe fruit that I bite into every day, that blooms eternally from a tree whose roots and resources, I evidently feel, rarely merit my attention.
Life is not merciful; so will I be grateful for such mercy in my own existence. So will I be more aware of the sources of my comfort, of the difficult and rare path those sources follow to end with my satisfaction.