Patience Is A Wearisome Virtue

Lisa Falzon

Heaven seems a difficult
place to reach.
Hell, even more distant.
Your friends make it look easy.
But you remain defeated
by so many little deaths.
Dead lovers, passed parents,
a cemetery full of losses.
Yet you watch from a parapet
unable to envision the end.
Is it vision or courage
that keeps failing you?
Certainly it is not fear.
Falling away into nothing
seems seductively voluptuous.
And still you live on
amidst pyres of threnody.
How many times must you die
before you are finally dead.

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Honorary Schizophrenic. Recent refugee. Displaced person. Old white male. Confidant of cassowaries.

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