Poem of Failed Amends (Amor fati)

I’ve put the oats in a jar,

with yogourt and seeds,

left it in the fridge

overnight. The fruit on top

will thaw, dripping

sweetness

into the rest.

I want to remember

I’ve done this

for myself in the morning,

because I’ve been surprised

by my own innocence:

I cried silent and easy

when my amends were

refused.

I was expecting to know

friendship.

As I was crying,

I made a note

about what I have to do

the next day.

I could do this.

I could take care of myself.

I did.

“I’m okay,” I thought,

“I’m okay.”

I've brushed my teeth,

washed my face, and am

ready for bed. I try to think

of how many other people

there are, not just in my life.

I can’t know them all.

I cry again.