Rigney Deliso

this is not a poem. 

this is not a song.

this is not metaphor, a sonnet, an ode, not a ballad, a rant, not even a dream–

this is a plea. 

No. 

I refuse to be afraid.

We are so caught in the coming climb

We forget to turn and see the cliffs we've scaled.

I am living in a country where a woman is bracing for a climb to greater heights

No one can predict 

Our country's future  

Various people watching and waiting  

Eager and scared for the outcome 

In octobers soft and cool air

Leaves fall down without a care

Orange and red cover the ground

Yet the summer is not to be found

A cold breeze begins to blow