Ambiguity

The precarious difference between a hawk and a handsaw:
as imperceptible and flighty
(when the wind is right)
as the difference between the lie and the truth.

Composure's cold walls trap us most of all,

and the smokescreens we throw up for others
choke us in the end.

Conscience keeps us tied to the stake;
the wild dog of vengeance is left
to tear himself to shreds.

The precarious difference between life and death:
there's a curtain easily torn.
A branch broken -- a twig snapped --
a flower petal dropped out of place.

They say she made a good end,
but who could choose but weep
that the seeming-weakest of us proves the strongest at last,
willfully seeking the unknown at the river-bottom?

And those left can fight destiny no more
than we can conquer poison.

(We can't all overthrow a kingdom,
or ourselves.)