Do we round the circle
to reach the square
of such despair we touch
the meanings gleaned
from living; it seems
too much to bear…

Do we gloss the loss
with frosty numbness?
Harden our hearts
to future darts?

Do we lose our sense
to recommence
when life sighs
by waving goodbye?

Our barriered eyes
reflect surprise
when death’s heartbeat
begins it sweep.

I am gone, perhaps forgotten,
it matters not, in the end,
when life is done,
the time has come
to be forgotten.

Erin Moen
11/13/03
Copyright 2003 ©