When I’m stuck in a pit of malaise
and self-pity flares up in a blaze,
I am forced to concede
that for lightness and speed
this old body has seen better days.
But my spirit’s not bound by the hide
that is holding my fragments inside.
When the flesh is enmeshed
in itself, I’m refreshed
by escaping the prison of pride.
2018 Mary Boren
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In the throes of a mid-life transition,
assuming the victim position
of nursing my wound
boomeranged and ballooned
to a doleful, disabling condition.
Though reluctant, I soon reconsidered
the lure of self-pity that glittered
like stars in the night
and I chose, through the plight,
to be bettered instead of embittered.
Mary Boren, 2011