Wednesday, September 24, 2003

It's been a while since I've written one of these.


Why can't this day be happily undone?
And gone the ambiguity it's wrought:
All there is to do is bear the pain, or not,
And I cannot commit to either one.
To be a stronger woman does not appeal
To stand up boldly, proudly in the rain,
And face the burning breaches once again,
And again, and again, and again till I keel.
And so I am drawn to a simpler fate,
And some easy blood and a final breath,
Yet this life has made me so fear death.
I've thought of my answer an hour too late--
That the sun could rise and days be no more:
This day, here, or the day that I was born.



On with it.