Change is Good?

Who said
That change is good?

Was he desperate?
At the end of the road, where only
Going over the bank,
Scrabbling through the underbrush,
Held hope

Was she a prophet,
Knowing the beauty
And inevitability of the new road,
Beyond the massive landslide,
Stretching toward
Mist-gold cities,
Sure
With the portent
Of God in her veins

Or perhaps a fool,
Revving his engine
To beat the odds and
Take the blind curve
At speed
On that narrow, unfamiliar road
In his raging, irrational need
To get ahead.

The phrase must have come
From one of these,
Or perhaps from some unholy
Combination of two or even
All three.

For the rest of us,
If we are honest,
Change is like the patch of ice
Under the tires,
No knowing
If we will keep to the road
As we fishtail
Flashing past insubstantial guardrails, and
The perilous drop
Toward an oncoming log truck,
Or perhaps careening helplessly
Into the gentle arms
Of a pristine snow bank.
Shot with diamonds
In the morning sun.