every bit as much
as you do, but
it's true that our most hated
parts might be the places
that simultaneously
lust most intensely
for somebody
(anyone) to come
to the rescue,
and those awful weights
which tug like stubborn
anchors at our centers
and ground us
to our murky strife
are the ones that
imbue us with the metal
that sustains us,
drawing our hearts
like iron filings to a magnet
to the world next door
which summons us
to wake into
and voluntarily (if not
enthusiastically) suffer
through a better life.
