Poem: There Were Promises Made

There Were Promises Made

and not inert ones,
as a form of influence, as persuasion.
Decisions were changed, life was planned.
It was how things came to be this way,
and it may have been foolish,
trusting you, all of that.  It is what is said,
though it is said too late, is said after,
when I am twenty years older,
not when I was new with wonder and belief
and had not been in the unfiltered world.
But it is too late to learn that lesson in time,
and things are how they are now
and another path cannot be walked instead.
It is what Frost said about "the difference."
It was long ago, by now, and here I am,
and I don't know what I should do.
I can't take a different path
but this one, I followed it
to reach a destination
where it does not seem to go,
and those who pointed me
are no longer around to offer guidance.
I am not certain what I must do,
but it is dark and gets darker
and, still, I cannot turn back.

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