Only my blood could be drawn
with the razor sliding across my flesh,
my life, my soul will continue on
for another heartbeat,
as the polished steel silently slices
more of what I was away to show
what I have become ‘neath this tired shell.
And I shall die when I am done knowing
that it was not a letting of blood
that caused me to come to this understanding
that nothing is remarkable in dying alone,
dying as I have ever lived
in freedom I carved out of myself.
© M Durfee