لاحقاً، إذا ما حدثَ وهويتِ إلى مداركِ اليأس، فلقد فعلت ذلك وحدك. - Anne Sexton

The future is a fog that is still hanging out over the sea, a boat that floats home or does not.

"To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph"

Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
There below are the trees, as awkward as camels;
and here are the shocked starlings pumping past
and think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well:
larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast
of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
Feel the fire at his neck and see how casually
he glances up and is caught, wondrously tunneling
into that hot eye. Who cares that feel back to the sea?
See him acclaiming the sun and come plunging down
while his sensible daddy goes straight into town.

Here in the hospital, I say,
that is not my body, not my body.
I am not here for the doctors
to read like a recipe.