Poem: It May Be So,

It May Be So,

may work
might just be
the way I must go,
and I will do it,
I will carry myself
through this,
if I must, I will,
but why must it be
that I must?
Why is my plot in the garden
the one always needing
the most tending
to grow anything but weeds?
I have seen others
do as I have done,
follow the path I followed,
but it leads to a destination
for them.  Why 
can't I do it that way?
I will do the work,
because I know I must,
but I still ask
why it is my work
to be done at all?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Writer's Notebook, Day Two-Hundred-And-Fifty

Le Guin, Steering The Craft, Chapter Five: Adjectives and Adverbs (Exercise Five, Chastity)

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-And-Fifty-Nine