Let the world not mislead me
with false directives of “I should.”
I have no duty there; I am not bound or called;
I don’t answer to the strictures
of this life.
In all the plague of conscience we suffer,
there is nothing that compels me,
though thousands of “shoulds”
ready to consume my unfolding days and years.
Only one true “should.”
It blazes over my being,
encindering the false.
I should see your face.
I should know you.
I should taste you,
I should smell your fragrance.
I should hear your voice —
I should talk with you —
not only in the dawn and night,
but whenever I speak.
I should smile at you in the intimacy of solitude or crowds,
and as need be, I should cry for you
I should walk with you.
I should touch you,
I should hold you,
I should never leave you.