I'm returning to "Heart's Needle" today. Somehow with all the madness in the world over the last few days, this poem has been on my mind. It is that last line: "We try to choose our life." We try, yet the world intrudes. Sickness and death intrude. Hunger, strife, and agony intrude.
They cannot imagine even failing to reaching the benchmarks they've set. Some feel they will go mad, some feel that shame would overcome them. I want to tell them that they can carry on despite the intrusions. A passion is beautiful but life exists beyond. Even after the intrusions, one must kindle hope. Small, secret perhaps, but hope even as we grieve what has past and what we must yet endure.