Forty-three feelings of the day arrive
In this place in my middle
below my left ventricle
behind, a little to the right,
above my navel
pressed up against my spine.
A place where I know
That self pity destroys the perpetrator
Complaining falls on deaf ears, and
Hurting is a contagious disease
you catch yourself
only you have the vaccine.
As I microscope my evaporating life
that left in a heartbeat
I know that I did not plan,
At least not knowingly,
Much of what happened to me
Yet, I know I did.
While pretending that
I do not have the answers
Refusing to unlock the door to let them in…
And Madagascar is an island
Off the Eastern coast of Africa,
And I can find my way there
Any time I please.
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
*For Dr. Martin Bravin, a professor, teacher, and friend who passed on. He used to play a game with his students. “Want to change your life? You have three minutes from the time I start the stop watch. One, two, three. What is the capital of Madagascar?” he asked clicking the start button on the watch. “How you play the game is how you run your life.” He also had me read the Estachological Laundry List.