Homerizing
There are choices and destiny.
I was destined to be born.
My will sat by waiting
while I drew my first breath
and screamed. I was detined
to scream, weep, sorrow, moan.
My will is not overcome by the immensity
of my destiny. The first moment I decided
not to cry, and drew calm baby's breath,
maybe it was my mother's hand,
maybe the light in the nursery,
my will was enjoined to my destiny.
My destiny set me afloat
like a ship on a wine dark sea,
but my will is not idle,
like a good first mate,
she sounds the alarm
for storm clouds,
and steers clear
of that so dark horizon.
My will and my destiny enjoined,
they grow up together, like children.
Well of course, they are both me;
we are set upon this wine dark sea.
Copyright © Barbara Cotter | Year Posted 2007
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