Too many inner pleas start with “I wish I could be”.
My appeals for more of this or that feature in me.
More that quake internal calm, are the “shoulds” & “shouldn’ts”.
My own reproachful strain of simple “coulds” or “couldn’ts”.
We pick away, life & day, at all the things we’re not.
We stubborn lay in our own way; dreaming of a shot.
Sisyphus can push that rock in hopes he’ll one day win.
Yet, I would choose to stack instead; upward, end to end.
I hope, one day, to pave a way high enough to view.
To view the world un-fetal curled into something new.
L.B.Stowe 