pantoum

this is not the end of the world
i will keep repeating myself
nothing is ever written in stone
there is still room and time for change

i will keep repeating myself
acting and speaking in ways i regret
there is still room and time for change
after all i'm not yet dead

acting and speaking in ways i regret
is not a death sentence
and after all i am not yet dead
and the same tree makes new leaves each year

regret is not a death sentence
nothing is ever written in stone
the same tree will make new leaves
and this is not the end of the world

i am falling in love with the pantoum. this is my third one. i am not yet very good. my poetry skills (such as they ever were) are a bit rusty. but the repetition keeps calling to me and this attempt shows why: my life seems to move in concentric circles. i repeat the same patterns over and over and over again. but each repetition carries a different weight; brings new meanings and significances. if i can begin to think of each repetition as progress, perhaps i can stop myself from despairing every time i find myself repeating behaviors and thought-processes i hate. spiraling outward, not in.