And although I am leader of this country: blue, because I'd still have sad days

Courage and horror stand side by side,
say the gods who
dole out fates. Like the one they give
the massage therapist
raped in her office by a
stranger off the street.
Raped face-down
on her table, in dimness and
lavender oil. No, this is yours, say
the gods,
handing off
a profusion of fall days in Boston, when
the boy you loved
was dying. Each morning
on your way to see him you cut a bouquet
of cosmos from
the front steps of
a brownstone.
The other, not yours,
is braver than yours, how
it ends —
the therapist feared she would die
hating him and began to chant,
and the panicked rapist ran, not knowing
she was chanting the
Buddhist prayer
for compassion.
And did you sing for your enemies?
No.
The gods are busy.
The cosmos are lavender,
rose, tangled and
orange,
replacing themselves in what
seems hours.

Courage and Horror Stand Side by Side by Katrina Vandenberg