You see, for years, I’ve been fighting with myself over living each day as I believe it should be
lived.
No skirting the issues,
no pretty white lies to cover some truths that I just hate to confront.
Like my husband’s drinking.
That simple little troubling issue that keeps cropping up in the back of my mind, no matter how
hard I try to dismiss it.
All the degrees in the world can’t make it go away.
Even in my own madness, it still spills over.
Be who you are, it keeps ringing in my ear.
Is this really my voice of reason?
But what if it doesn’t work out?
What if I end up alone?
I’m afraid.
I’m paralyzed by that thought.
What is that next step, I pray?
Believe in the power, of what, I’ve forgotten.
I’m so in denial - like he is - they’d say.
So I’ve asked for the voices and now they won’t come. Squashed down by those goddamned
degrees.
Voices?
Can’t hear them.
I’m asking, can you?
copyright 2006 US Library of Congress
copyright 2006 US Library of Congress
