Waiting for the End “With nowhere yet to rest my head, Like these, on earth I wait forlorn.“ -Matthew Arnold, Stanzas from the Grand Chartreuse It is human nature. We cling to our safe pasts, Wrapped around us like a familiar pink blanket-- Even when the soft wool becomes a stiff straightjacket, And we are strapped and trapped. Today, it transformed into a shroud-- While we mourn the end. Crisp linen wrapped, Tulips and lilies on my breast. Wandering between two worlds, One dead, The other awaiting birth. I lift the veil to light a candle for the lost. Tomorrow, it will be a parachute-- Strapped snugly, and I jump from the plane. I drop from the sky To fly on my chrysalis wings. Bio: Susan Cossette is the author of Peggy Sue Messed Up . . . and other poems. Her work has appeared in Rust & Moth, Adelaide Literary Magazine, and Clockwise Cat, among others. She is a recipient of the University of Connecticut’s Wallace Stevens Poetry Prize. By day, she is communications director for Voices of September 11th, a nonprofit that works with those impacted by mass violence and terrorism. More of her work may be found at https://musepalace.wordpress.com.
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