This is not a cry for help, for solace or
an assuagement of discord
this is begging for mercy
This is not a comedy show or any kind
of writ-large tragedy played out
on grand stages to multitudes of paying customers
this is a personal safari
This is not a well-played song
with all the words memorized and in key, with voices
raised in hearty baritone like a Welsh choir
this is sub voce
This is not a great novel of heroes and villains
and moral import and meaning
this is a subplot
This is not rhyme nor reason
nor some bulwark against a growing night
not a candle or defiant cry
this is an ember
This is not shining eyes and lush lips
with promises well kept
and pillow talk longings
of improper proposals
this is a bloodshot eye
This is not weddings and anniversaries
parties and meals and adventure
rings, christmas mornings, and warm-soft nights
this is a wake
Lenity
