fragility

And still and still and still
there is this restless seeker within me
and I had hoped she’d be dead by now,
dead and buried and at peace,
not writhing on this bed of apathy, not half-sedated by dreaming.
No, she must die.
Die—or be brought fully to life, to her feet, to dance, to sing, to make love
to chance to explore to leap so high into the air that
so high into the air that
so high into the air that
so high into the air that

And still and still and still
there is this restless seeker within me.