after Diana Gabaldon
Perhaps you know how life will chip away
the secret fire within and leave us cold
and old and broken, wishing for the day
before the rope unraveled. We were bold
in some small measure, brave enough to stand
in opposition to the unjust tide
that rises in the morning of this land
still ripe with plentitude. We will not hide
though this defiance comes with bitter cost.
It’s better to have stood on quelling legs
and fall: we shatter but are never lost
though we may ruefully choke on sorrow’s dregs,
a bitter cup, indeed. But so it goes:
our fortunes may yet change. Nobody knows.