Black, Black Heart

You cud have chosen the easier life, the easier path. You cud have ridden the winds to greener shores. Instead you chose to stay put. Your roots drew you into this old, dry earth of half-remembered dreams and hand-me-down memories.

You cud have found leisure in the shade. But you preferred backbreaking labour in the harsh sun. Had you chosen differently, you wud have had wealth, even luxury. But your choice led you to a spartan, near empty life.

You were handed the key to great successes. But you refused it and convinced yourself that it was alright to be ordinary as long as you were good.

But your goodness is not enuff to protect you from the ravages of want. You learned the hard way that hunger can drive people to trade their honour for a meal.

You worry that your heart will turn hard and black, if you find no one to love you back. You awake each day fearing that the cost of making this choice was too great. You wonder if the darkness that surrounds everyone you see will swallow you if you're not careful.

You cud have created great beauty. But instead you chose to mop away, bit by bit, at all the ugliness you saw around you.

And now your hands are too rough for anyone to hold.