The righteous will say,
No closure for the wicked
No rest for the hordes
Rail on for justice,
For resolution’s balance
For a sign of peace
Dove’s wings are tangled
Within the hawk’s taloned fists
Your closure, his claws
I began writing about one kind of closure, but my words wandered into a different place.
Peace, people.
the favor of her friendship,
forged in youth,
had strings attached.
acknowledge her privilege
accept her status
unwrap her gifts
or succumb to the vacuum.
it pains me to admit that
I once felt adrift
without her approval
the old habit of relishing
her other-directed
sarcasm, snideness,
an affliction of belonging.
heaven knows I cried some
in anger and loss;
who could I be without her?
my soul answered in a flourish:
you are nourished now
deep within, all your own
healthier, wiser, independent.
Praying for Eyebrowz 