A thousand poems have died
inside of me
resting now in the arms of an exhausted midwife…
seconds from where they began,
long days after birth, they are still.
All the things that are not meant to be
feel all the ones that were,
stand upon them…
because everything needs a place to stand.
All that is undone
becomes the road
for what will be done.
Fail to the utmost of your ability
or never know these things.
A thousand poems died inside of me,
and became this one…that didn’t.