north-american possums! work fatigue grouses; singaporean; ex-poet and writer; former convent girl; converted, convicted and painfully quiet; bibliophilic; skyscrapers; weather-talk; dining alone on sashimi; your life with Jesus; banging heads with problems; looking from afar; loving my xiongmao; peanuts & anchovies; battlestar galatica; novella dreams and paranoai: holding onto you.

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Friday, August 23, 2002

This darkness too shall pass.
And once more the lines
will come to me,
without the fruitless pursuit
of something i vaguely know.
Let it come to me once more.
Before they tally up
the final beats of my heart
and find the slack in the weights.

Somewhere under the
train tracks and
underground passes,
passing fleetly
the whispers of my
numbered days,
lies my gift.
Ready to break
through the surface;
Ready to find a love
that wants to be found.
Doing so, not to conquer it
but to surrender all,
the pathways i've marked out
for my life.

This gift shall pry open
stubborn wills,
my own hands,
which drew me in and
enclosed me dearly.
Though it seems costly,
and a deep pain to speak
so boldy:

Yet surely no one worries
when daylight breaks,
and broken spirits mend,
sometimes,
without a helping hand.

posted by happyhannon at 1:36 AM