In the crosshairs of this life
the middle now, but closer to the finish
I fear I've left a trail of nothing behind me
until I feel the milk let down again and know
there are only two perfect things I have ever done.
As I search for myself in them
I am my own terrorist, something like
a body under frozen water gazing up
at the hopeful sky, trapped.
Maybe this decade I'll get it right
uncover the final catharsis
stop rejecting the grace
find beauty in the breakdown.
Recognizing what has gone before me
I discover that I believe much more
in what my eyes cannot see
in what cannot be proven
because it lives inside me.