When D-Day Comes Poem by Patti Masterman

Eons of time spent whirling around suns
Trying to locate the real self
I tried on so many other peoples lives
To see what might fit me-
Friends and strangers, famous actors
And people who existed only in books
Tried to remove the rough generic
Corners of me that stuck out at odd angles-
Nothing worked.

We come out of no one sees where
We leave to go where nobody knows
Like ghostly actors on Shakespeares stage
Perhaps all those ones I tried to become
Were also born with my first breath?
And will expire with my last personal act
Then my death becomes a thing
Of truly tragic proportions
A bang and not a whimper?