Jul 7, 2019
1 min read
The Fruit of Failure
A Year of Sonnets #83
It’s easy, love, to let your fingers slip,
to swallow all defiance at a glance
so full of ice and horror you may skip
a breath or heartbeats — and you lose the chance
that you have built with weary industry,
a thousand sacrifices, little joys
deferred until hard labor sets you free.
And then you fail. The sacrifice was noise
and empty air — like Orpheus with love,
returned from Hell with…
