Enrolada's response...

Enrolada's response...

Moving forward, no choice in this, I've scrambled, rushed,
and plodded donkeys at my own sweet pace.
Strangers' judgment never could, nor ever will, whip me into shape.
Only those safe eyes that love, will not scorn nor jibe
when where I am, is where a birth has simply marked its place.
What is, what was, I have always understood
too well, most say, not to do what they think I should.
Hear this compassion? "You'll wake barren, to a wasted life.."
When their own ledgers measure their own treasure
as nothing but trouble and strife.

I've made what I could from what was mine
and if I have wallowed, like them, I've had the time,
the need to rest, assess, and survey old new land.
No kingdom fought for, but in a peaceful war
acquisitions are pages written in freedom's book of law.
No inky lamentations to sing for what is not,
no guilt, pitiful dirges, no festering pots of loss.
This be for others, their puddings of nostalgia,
payment-odes for imbalance, to neurosis and neuralgia.

Not all sickness can be cured, healthy-wrapped or boxed,
Though with steady effort much is 'earned,
and to those who ask the cost
I say, the price is hefty weighty - but worth every coin,
when time is simply spent, as I spend mine.