To every coin

a choice,

to every moment 

in the sun

another hidden 

in the shade.

My shadow self;

it doubts 

it lurks 

waiting,

colour blind.

It reaches back 

into my chest 

to the child,

the wound,

the old 

scar 

tissue.

Stoic.

I carefully construct 

a world where i can place 

one foot

in front of the other,

and maybe even run 

from time 

to time.

There is a  sadness  

stream. 

It runs along side

blood and lymph

and has springs that 

erupt 

in 

unexpected 

places.

There are two sides 

to a coin

an argument

a day

a decision

a life

In the toss of life

on any given

day

I know not 

on which side

the coin will land

or which wolf I will feed.