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Not Proxime Accessit

30 Mar

A hurt that cannot find words
it is so long remembered. Yet it must;
for even now it speaks within me:

Not resentment, for the wound is healing
though I will not help it; so more effectively.
(Wounds heal best just naturally,
not by unintended infecting
of them. Is that not so?)

So, therefore, I must
find… or rather “have”
such words to express myself.

Now it cannot be forgotten
so I am no longer obliged
to remember – just for myself!

Not resentment; for there is no one to resent.
I will not fall into that old vice: of claiming
– even if only to myself – that any are aiming
at infallibility. I must not expect at present
– or ever – too much. Else be disappointed.

Not to be disappointed in those I care for,
those I love and respect;
not to think too highly, too often, except
in commendation: to praise more.
As I ought to, should do, must do more.

One final word and that will suffice.
Less negative emotion, please! Optimism
and self-confidence. Yes, I have succeeded.


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Posted by on Tuesday, March 30, 2004 in poetry

 

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