The Blame Game
Seeking to find serenity is a task I cannot take
for most of all it seems to me a mindless missing mandate.
Buddha has achieved serenity, at least that what some say.
Yet, in my mind dear Sylvia* found death in a similar way.
To not exist, to cease to be, will bring the sought for feeling,
many find this door to out, but, it leaves my head reeling.
Can I not change, the path I'm on, can I not choose another?
Will I blame an omnipotent God, will I blame my brothers?
No, I'll accept, live and breathe, the form which I've been given,
and I'll forgive myself each step, and so, I will be shriven.
For I've been made with God's own seed, a God am I so born
I'll not blame another man or take credit from the unformed.
*Sylvia Plath (10/27/32 – 2/11/63) was an American poet,
novelist and short story writer who commited suicide.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
