That as she studies the horizon
Losing herself in its beauty,
Her senses overloaded
And nausea setting in,
She seizes, owns, her instinct and
Curses the hypocrisy of
Trumpeting a personal cause,
Finding pain’s place
Openly, finally, publicly,
Tearfully damning the burden.
That he, too, would study that horizon,
Less moved than she by its beauty,
Fire raging in the pit
Of his shallow stomach, his heart
Deadened by her hurt.
Still, he succumbs to the nausea, too.
He makes her cause his own, expecting
To release pain and burden and hypocrisy.
But he wasn’t supposed to.
He couldn’t understand this was not for him. And
He stands helpless, resentful. Alone.
Is that the name we give it?
We label her tragedy, her strength
We label his cowardice, his self
Hardly, she said.
Try betrayal, she said.
She said, betrayed twice now.
Not that it’s terrifying, or even
That she’s powerless.