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  • For Those At Work
     
    There will be time for further talk today.
    Nay. Not today. We’ll speak of things and games,
    Amusements to wash away constant sorrow.
    Today we finish what was started long,
    Long ago. Remember back in the day?
    So far away and yet a living time,
    Still pictured in the space of my own eye.
    Do I spy a joy in duty and pain?
    There is a distinct pleasure in one’s work,
    One’s only work and it is ecstasy.
    I am so in love with my own beloved soul.
    Agonistic to say “I enjoy me”?
    Would you take offense if I enjoyed you?
    Whenever we two do meet today know I wish:
    To know that you had joy and played today.

     

     

    ***

    To Trust Thyself Though Thou Be Broken
     
    The world as I see it, may be broken;
    And yet, we are the world in which we walk.
    I am the living, breathing I and eyes –
    Eyes that blink and shine out of joy, sorrow,
    Love, prayer. Tomorrow is not really here.
    But I am. I love. I know. I am known.
    So at time’s end, does it matter fast? Slow?
    “I am here,” I say. “I am here,” I cry.
    So all else fades: Night’s memory.
    A Shade’s dust. The two of us are now one.
    Thus, as I am so you will be always.
    My heart’s destiny was always threefold.
    You, me and space. Two hands touching meaning;
    Unfolding atomies, enveloping trust.

     
     

    ***

    To You Who Read These Lines
     
    I share your gaze and the haze of my wish,
    Your eye meeting my I; your inner thought,
    Your self-same person, not myself and mine:
    That I may share a space with you in you –
    I, who have hoped too hard and trusted long,
    But long without merit. May it be worth –
    May I be worth the time taken to arrive,
    On dusty pages; obsolete no more.
    Not now, where two may be one, God dwells too.
    Ourselves come marked, the dust fills our trail,
    Still we meet and line by line we intertwine.
    The thought of you loving you – Such goodness –
    God’s goodness, indeed; But I, Human,
    My eyes inside you; the one I would wish.
     
     

    About The Author

    DEBORAH COPELAND AADUNA HEADSHOT

    D.C. Copeland

    D.C. Copeland graduated from Yale University with her Bachelor of Arts degree in English, and received her Masters of Arts from New York University.  Copeland’s plays have been performed in New York City, Portland, Oregon, Yale University, New York University, and have been taught in Kevin O’Rourke’s (“Boardwalk Empire”) acting classes at Williams College.  Copeland has also returned to her original roots as a poet, composing a rapidly growing body of work written in iambic pentameter.  Recently, Copeland has focused on creative non-fiction essays targeting aspects of contemporary culture.   A catalogue of her writings (including pieces on Identity, Drugs, and Suicide) will be released in fall 2016 under the name Suicide Society.  Her poems have been published by Firbolg publishing and The Commonline Journal.  She is delighted to join aaduna’s community of writers.