My new colleague perplexed as I jump for joy,
singing happily on completion of my document
– but you don’t like translating, she accuses; I
explain I hate climbing the mountain, getting
caught in brambles of dissonant meanings
And meandering pathways without rhythm
leading me astray, but once on the top I love
the view, the feeling of accomplishment, the
happiness of having made the trek uphill and
not faltering along the way and rolling down
Telling her I love the life I hate to live - she’s
quiet, doesn’t make sense – it’s just as I say,
I love the final outcome though I detest the
anxiety as I stumble and slide my difficult
emotional way to the beckoning top….
[8 October 2014]
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