I can sit for hours frozen numb unable to process any emotion 

This is after what has continually “happened,” what an inadequate word

For the fated

Lives we choose to abhor 

When they don’t go our way


I feel so inconstant 

As if I change with the winds 

When I’ve always been rock steady

Née steadfast and pure

But now 

Just numb

And no longer adored 

Untitled Sunday Morning

I am old suddenly 

as the morning is new

And yet there is promise