This false choice
need not be made.
And I do myself no favors
with Awakening —
or anything
that might seem
to defend or justify
this wanderlust
(despite the desperate
and desolate end).

Indulge it
in the unspoken page —
we could fill
1,001 graveyards
with these dreams —
and on waking,
busy hands will keep
the devils at bay.
But all the strain
of these constant adaptations
begins to tell.

And I am told
the truth will out —
just like the water’s whispers
rise to roars
as it bursts its banks.
And I am fearful
of such naked words,
but want to welcome
every advance
brought by this
grand turning.

Until we grow daring
and sunkissed loose,
I will trust
in your humility,
your goodness,
your skill with a spade
to keep my feet planted
in the sweet black soil
of the homeland.

About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

One response to “Goodwife”

  1. ruepoetry says :

    There are poems that may or may not be about joy, happiness, contentment or what have you – often not, but they have the power to make me overlook the darker parts and revel in the beauty they create. This is one of those poems. It’s got feet, and a heartbeat, and I enjoyed it very much.

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