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The Road

Only through the deepest, dank dark
Only through despair’s ripe core
On the wrong side of this evil, stark river
   at the beginning, by the blistering cascades
too dangerous to cross
The touch of a whore
   feels about the same as the one you adored
close your eyes and it’s even true

I know all about loss
   and the wound that won’t heal
With a weary defiance
   I met every blow
and fiercely returned the same
I don’t yet find a safe place to cross
   If, as you say, I’m really a fish
I’d swim beneath the churning dank grey
   I’d even forgive
I’ll follow this damn river ‘til it’s gone
   to the wine dark sea if I must
Rage, foul river, rage
An old religion teaches
   a way to enlightenment through suffering
It’s not the road I’d pick
   but it’s the road I’m on

-March 8, 2008-