Life

Black carousel, turning
through the circle of life,
covering the same ground,
yet every revolution,  new.

Different costume for every ride...
daughter, sister, wife, mother,
friend, foe, lover, other...
each distinct, blur together.

Wait for the night, the world
where lack of focus, limits me not,
but takes the boundaries
out, far beyond where I can see.

No longer a child, but loving the ride...
so strangely familiar, dependably chaotic.
I continue to embrace with love,
that which loves to hurt me.