Spunk

Photo by Chris Sardegna

She had so much spunk,

That she made oceans out of

The beads of perspiration

That formed at her head

When she looked ahead

At the series of lifeless days

That were coming.

As she acknowledged

The reality of what was to come,

She promised herself

That acknowledgement

Was not acceptance,

And that she refused

To passively wait

For days and months and years

For courage to arrive

And turn her life around.

She refused to simply look

Out of the windows

Of her cage-like dwelling

At the long road that led there.

She stopped waiting

To hear the doorbell

That would spring her into activity

And instead

Got to work herself.

Bracing herself for the tough task,

She started shaking the chains

That tied her to the weight

Of imagined obligations

That no one expected anyway.

The chains were hard to break

But at least they rattled

And betrayed the signs

Of inherent weakness.

For her, for now,

That was enough.

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