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Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The Junkyard

I first gave freely, happy to be of use in a world where happy endings were scarce. I thought I would not miss what was given, and the more I gave the more I would receive.

But now my giving is laborious, and as I feel my vulnerable layers stripped away, to be used for scrap by unscrupulous dealers, I fear I am an exposed, rusty husk, who has inadvertently given away her usefulness.


  1. I know this feeling. It is how I felt the first two years of teaching. I thought that if I had to keep teaching, I would die. I also wrote an uncommon amount of cussing poetry. You are La Carolina, super-therapist. This is like the times in a comic book when you think the superhero has died, but they will punch through a rock or something and be stronger for it.

  2. thank you Sandy. Also, thank you for commenting on my blog and stuff. It was a blow going back to work today. Thank you for believing in me!