To Begin With ...

Knowing you, isn't always everything,
least ways who's to say in the first place.

Reactions are never same set,
no matter the irony of a situation.

Open windows are often closed,
unless we pry and chip away old paint.

Western skies grow dark each night,
yet one cannot deny the last blue of day.

Grieving is do-not-pass-go necessary,
just as is the pressing need to keep breathing.

Something is always coming 'round the bend,
even when you think you are long drawn out.

There may be no recognizing the next step,
but the next best thing is taking same.

Denial, really is a river in some far off place,
falling into which is never an option.

When joy hits full force behind tragedy,
dismissing same is impossible, you know!

Doesn't mean the weeping will ever stop,
until such time as you are truly a done deal.

You are your own worst enemy, this is true ;
all the more reason to live out loud for your self.

The past is the past is the past is the past,
the future on continual insistent arrival.

No one can take this away, no matter the might;
there is no way to foreshorten the long of it. 

Beware, though, the invisible trip wires,
blinded as you may be by your own happiness.

Skeletons do at times return from the grave,
or were never buried properly to begin with.

***She could see the open square before her house the tops of trees were all aquiver with the new spring life.  The delicious breath of rain was in the air.  In the street below a peddler was crying his wares.  The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.  -Kate Chopen from "Story Of An Hour"