Journey to Your Deepest Self

Despair


She trembles with fear
Her hand shakes
As the wine glass is raised to lips
Ever thirsty
Ever quenched
Ever dry
Ever hungry
Ever spitting
Foulness and stench

All the children have been killed
The mothers too
She is the last one
Some were killed with hatred and violence
But most were simply neglected
Until they ceased to exist
She is the last one and
She fears for her life
And yet,
For her death
Sometimes she wonders at life’s tenacity
At how hard it is to die
Given how hard it is to live
But mostly she just trembles and
Holds on
Waiting
She forgets to want anything
It was the children who wanted
And they are gone
Every moment is only
Watching and waiting
And without the children
She is like wallpaper
Like wood
Like dirt
Everything she is
Depends on what’s next
And since what’s next is never grasped
Never quite gotten to
Always beyond
She is nothing
And the longer she is nothing
The bigger she grows
And the more shapeless

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