I wrote this poem in
September 2013 just after a death in my family. It
was expected and I thought I had prepared, but by
coincidence I had other unrelated matters to deal
with, with one problem after another, causing me
anger at others who were not allowing me to grieve as
my other immediate problems were in the way of my
thoughts. It's complicated to explain all the fine
details but basically I was waiting to receive a
reply from an important letter that could effect my
future but I felt suspicious that something so simple
and routine was intentionally made all the more
I traverse my
path at a steady pace,
No need to hurry it's not a race,
I walk my own speed in any case,
No scars of impatience upon my face.
vanish from my life,
The pain feeling like a knife,
Then another begins to strife,
Causing me to wonder if the intention was to connive.
This cannot be
What is your defence,
That you already told me whence,
Your words make no sense.
You're in my
way come back henceforth in future months to come,
I can deal with you later when I have more time to um,
Time for me to think of retort and them some,
Instead I have to wait with a wince in my tum.
What do I do
until your reply,
All these pains caused by stress I sigh,
Was it a genuine problem caused by I?
Or did you make it all up just being sly?
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