To do one thing that is trueto yourself,not listening to the voicesthat would mock youinto staying ordinaryTo do all the many thingsthat are insideand need to get out,not remaining beholden tothe suffocating tediumof other people’s expectationsTo be brimful with anticipationfor whatever new passion might bewaiting to unfurl;To have stories to tell,instead of nothing to sayHow sad to live a lifethat is not like that.
* A poem written by my mum that featured in her funeral booklet.