If I am
a woman of abundance
speaking fluent excess
in a time where
nothing
is denied
what do I become
when the borders
are closed
to the land
I promised myself?

Pigeonholed into
this sense of security
seeing myself
through one-half
of the monocle
--wasted tension,
then, if twice-effort
produces half-sight--
Where do I go
to find myself
when the only door
I knew
is shrouded
in second-hand screens?

I will rise-
for comfort has made
apaths of us all

I will rise-
realizing these bones
ache under the weight
of collected burdens

I will rise-
vision adjusting
as perspective changes
from lower life
to heavenward glances
too dry
too bright
too foreign to the naked eye

And yet
this simplistic wealth
contradicts itself
in losing, we hope
to gain
in leaving, we hope
to find

So I will rise-
embracing the new abundance
of having nothing
except All.