Choice

A thousand restless poets

Spitting bile, froth and spew

Malodorous sulphur springs

Churning foaming new

Emotionally discarded

Stewing over true

Driven by discord

Formed by fury

Nails cleaving at flesh

Existential storm concealing

All that started fresh

Gratitude the guide

It’s perfume fills the bold

Choosing gratitude

Revealing

One’s dark and hidden gold

Courage is called for

Choice is always there

Choose not to furnish

The hold of your despair

Writing makes a ladder

Each line

A rung

Climb until you can climb no more

One poem at a time

No guarantees

Only cursed choice of two

Condemned

Or indeed delighted

To express

One creator shining through.

Nikolai Rozhonova