When much younger,
listen to me children,
I wrote out my heart
on pieces of paper
and sent them all away
out to the world
and the world
unfailingly threw
them back into my face,
all of them into
a face they never knew.
Oh yes, rejected,
neglected, incarcerated
without trial
or appeal
they kept their counsel
and I kept mine,
changed by their
changelessness.
For you see,
the inscrutables are right.
Every no engenders
yes somewhere else.
I’m OK with that.
Really, I’m OK.
You never know
what I’ve discovered
and you keep rejecting
me the way you always
have you never will.
♠