The time between triumphs
When doubt crawls and festers
To metastasize
In a heart, cold and restless
Saying that maybe
It’s all behind
And you’ve already found
All the joy you could find
As if more searching
Wouldn’t bring better days
As if still fighting
Couldn’t change your bad ways
As if still writing
Wouldn’t finish your book
Naught’s left to despair
Rub your eyes and then look
A Life in Poems 