Success

It takes something to make a life work, whatever your deal.
Something like willingness to be late for the guided tour yet
find your way, you've heard the routine, to worship what you
worship and cosset that whispered Remember you've been loved,
not believed or cared about for many years, but lingering in
the waxy portals of your quivering ears tipped red. And
there's no running away unless you believe concrete obscures
the bulk of you you've been skedaddling from a long time,
a thing to dissect, not the skedaddling from life's sadness,
no, try repercussions of life's sadness arising not from desire
but some childhood omission not overcome. Your little
cheesecloth gut feasts on indigestion and futility. Say what?
It's not cowardly to seek open arms fleshy and embracing?

Sarah Sarai | Taiga | Summer 2008 (inaugural issue)