I had a difficult problem

I didn’t know what to do.

I mulled it round my head.

I puzzled it on the loo.

It coiled round my ears.

It burrowed into my brain

It stuck between my teeth.

It made my feel insane.

I cogitated, deliberated.

I chewed it like a goat

I inhaled it deeply

I gargled it in my throat.

I categorised and vetted it.

I organised it into groups.

But like a circus animal

It had me jumping through hoops.

I stewed and I considered it.

Then let it drift for a while

I put it on the backburner

On the bottom of the pile.

But just a few days later

The problem came again

It was bigger than before

And like a crowd of angry men.

I hadn’t taken it seriously

I’d forgotten the “Lazarus Rule”

It’s a rule for sorting problems.

At work or home or school.

Leave a problem at your peril.

At most leave forty winks.

But if you leave it for four days

It really, really stinks.

So I told it to some people

As if that would make amends.

But that just made it worse:

They gossiped to their friends.

But problems can always worsen.

And I hadn’t finished yet.

I wrote it on my blog

And put it on the internet.

Then the problem overtook me.

It swerved into my lane.

And slammed on its breaks.

And turned into pure pain.

Pain is only temporary.

It often goes away.

And just like old Lazarus

I lived another day.

It’s good to learn from problems

And the challenges they set

To turn it into hope

And to deal with regret.

To shrug off unkindness,

Callousness and curses

To look to each morning

And their new mercies.