I did not choose my presence To be good enough today And be thrown in the desolate tomorrow. I did not choose this fragile structure To be intimidated by mere breezes Bending this way and that, involuntarily. I did not choose this outdoors lifestyle Being spanked by easterlies and branded by eternal rains. I did not choose to be overexposed To blistering suns and colds and howling gales Though poets find my struggle metaphoric. I did not choose to grow on man’s footpaths And cry unheard under their feet Set here and there in a drunken blunder. I long for the day when I’d hear myself say ‘I owe my success to my travails’ But that day seems to be brushing against my skin, Sliding away despite my impotent attempts. I only dream of leaning against a window pane And view the city lights at night, Of course that’s ordinary to you But to me it’s a fantasy For my height or lack of it Forbids me from seeing over distant roofs The heave of the maddened waves And the magnificent sunset.
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11/26/2009 12:28:47 PM. #.34# You Are Here:
A Daffodil by Stella Sisanda Qishi