A right of [pass]age 

It’s so hard to disappoint out of choice:

Like a war of action –

Not of reaction – we adventure 

A wrenching of bonds and ties 

Not because we need to;

Rather, because we want.

And in this wanting not needing,

Without pleading or researching,

Or – even! – bleeding, like stones 

Uncovering and beetled 

By music which once sounded 

So fine in its familial rhyme,

We lay a claim to 

A right of [pass]age:

Finally, we

Resurrect our future out of years 

Because we desire

No longer to sire another: this time,




Sire ourselves.

And when I lose my children –

And my imagining of wife’s could’ve been –

To the breakage of lost love,

This wanting I talk of,

This desiring I wreak,

Nothing then remains the same.

And – perhaps – 

Thus it ever was!

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