All Grown Up
I sit upon my bed and wait for time
To show me if my life was really mine;
The hands I’ve always felt around my throat
Are loosening their grip, and I have spoke.
The years in which I prayed to be released
I mourn their early end now that they’ve ceased.
Because that little boy is all grown up,
And drinks the soup that’s ladled in his cup.
Whatever it is, give it to me.
Whatever it is, I can take it.
I will be alright. I will make it.
2022