a poem by John Starks, USA

As she (at first) was spoken of, not to,
I deftly dampened what (were I to feel)
Would move me from some stark, clinician's view
To one (emotion-tinged) that proves more real.
I had (by damp'ning's gambit) dared evade
The brunt of what I'd struggle more to bear,
Were I to own what makes this bard afraid,
Or apt to feel the weight of his despair.
But I (with new-found courage) did confront
What, heretofore did so intimidate,
E'en one who tends to be forthright or blunt;
E'en one who tends to shake his fist at fate.

I've gained a little more of that control
By which I may possess, at length, my soul.

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