Into the desert

Into the desert

Into the desert, Miss Overmuch marched.
Her hair pinned back, her uniform starched.
She turned to the girl in line with her step
And noticed that not one, save Miss Overmuch, wept.

What makes a grown girl cry, Karenina asked.
When setting upon a journey so fine and so basked
in the glory of man at her best?
But for Overmuch it was now a meaningless quest.

It was meaningless because she would leave behind
The foolish raptures and love that is blind.
The things which would make her heart reach her brain
And there merge in the most wonderful pain.

So, while no one looked, she took one clip from her hair.
A strand came loose and floated freely on air
around her face, which looked about her at the beauty
of a landscape, free of shallow sentiments and narrow cruelty.

So, into the desert did Miss Overmuch march.
But, for her, to lay down arms, at the arch
of the gate to the enemy state,
to then turn and run back- before it's too late.


Carin Goodwin