Reflection

I think I'll practice a little confessional writing tonight much like the confessional poetry that was all the rage a generation ago... and of which I was so adept at college.

Young people take so many things for granted...good health, good teeth and good hormones...just to name a few. They have spirit and hope and amazing self-confidence even if it's the disordered reflection of no self-esteem... for each of those is certain that he or she is among the toadiest.

I look back twenty years and cannot believe that the beautifully vibrant young woman I was... bears any resemblance to the me who sits here now. God, where did she go ??

Which dead dream suffocated her... choking off her energy ?? Or was it simply a slow progression of hopelessness. Perhaps it was all the many distressed years of mothering all alone while dodging insipid tyrants at work.

Or could it be the living dead who grasp at her still...over the hundreds of miles between here and there ??

Sitting here alone in the dark, I must be honest.

I know the one who was my undoing.

Et tu, Brute ??