And Some Break Free

My friend's sister was running
from the arms of her mother
when she came to the stone bridge
of the stone gorge and jumped
to her death,
and I sinned
with envy that she was free.

We look to our death,
a speck on peripheral vision
fading when viewed directly,
a Pleades with naked vision
that we question our senses
if it is there a shadow distant,
or for the moment not.

I sinned, and sinned
to let my friend see
I held the dark potential within,
of sight embracing shadows
in flight within a water stone.

In the pained eyes
of each unloved child
there I see myself.
Not for them,
or around them,
but there am I.

He ran from me not knowing
into his own not knowing --
living it is easier to not know
how death begs
to always keep us running.

][<en Follett