Fresh off the boat,
And jipped.
As the anger builds
Remind yourself by the minute,
The second,
The every waking moment,
You’re suffering,
An inconsolable pain.
Maybe, that way,
You won’t find yourself
Right back where you began
Thirty years the later.
Searching for the pieces,
A puzzle hanging in time.
You’ll feel the urge to shut down,
Run from it.
Something you just can’t accept,
Nor grasp.
You must find a way to
Stand up tall or crumble,
But face it.
You’ll eventually see
The light peak over the hilltop,
As the sun rises and sets on queue.
DoRee MelNic 