Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Satisfaction

All these strands of insecurities
Frantic glances to the left and right of me
To scared to look behind and feel
The eyes of those I left to dust
Solemn with forgiveness
What’s one more thought to bury me
Compared to the effort of struggling free
Cultivate the field where I rest
With every persecuted weed
And tread as if the world depended on
Every graying bit of shrubbery
We thought this was what they called
Happiness:
This stretch of Earth that claimed the right
of existence
But not life.
Satisfaction is my happiness.