Here’s a more serious, thoughtful poem to contrast with Runaway Writer in my last post. This one’s called Half-Life.



Ignorant of the whole, one cannot mourn the loss of the half,

Despair has no foothold, loneliness no grip,

Until that half is found, recognised, loved.

And lost.

Is a half, unaware that it is such, then whole?

And on discovering that it has only ever been but one of two,

Must it forever live its half-life

With no hope for completion, for fulfilment?

by Vicki Watson

2 thoughts on “Half-Life

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