I once danced atop holy water
Thinking the world would be made right
For the righteous, not the wicked.
In my fantasy the swine would lay
Their pearls before my feet, as I sat
On my regal dais and ate truffles.
I believed this was to be
Because I was chosen, I was the beloved.
But prophecy doesn’t come to pass
Without work, and fate needs a task
To complete, and destiny is merely
Looking back on the past at what happened.
If I’m to skip across baptismal waters once
Again, I need to slide off my throne
And crawl to the river’s edge,
Plunge into the crispness of the stream
And either learn how to swim
Or how to accept drowning.
This poem appears in the collection The Poets Are Dead?