Can I go?
Mother may I
step away from the parade?
Lay my head down
on heather fields,
soft
with the newness of Spring.
Maybe I will walk
between the beach
and the waves.
The surf will give me form,
where I had long ago
given up my own.
Can I get a moment’s grace?
Just five,
or ten more days?
That’s all I need,
then I’ll be steam;
yeah,
I’ll evaporate.
Wherever the wind blows
is where I’ll go.
Yeah,
someday.
Today,
I’m off to find
which failure I’m to face,
and fight a war again.
HG – 2019
