I will not be shaped by you,
no fucking way!
For I am me–as insistent
as the unforgiving wind,
as fragile as this blossom,
crumbled at your feet.
Love me if you will,
hate me if you must,
but never will any being
high or low breathe their
life on me, for I have
breath enough for just one.
I will not live out your
stylish wishes, in mannered
pretty words that cause no fuss.
No fucking way!
For this is the only prize I
have—this one life drawn up
to live and then to die.
Love me if you will, and make
that the breath to share, for this
is all that fucking matters in this
one grand unfolding, this reaching
to the sun, this fragile one creation,
called a blossoming fragile life.
4/5/2021