Despite the cold that lingers

Despite the work that waits

Despite the doctor’s appointment

I finished it today.

You’d think I’d be exulting

You think I’d be overjoyed

You think I’d be rushing to send it out

But I’m feeling quite pensive now.

This one’s a little bit raw

This one shows a lot of me

This one is a bit of a risk

I’m afraid of what people might think.

And yet I do like it

In fact I like it a lot

I was surprised it made me cry

Even though I knew how it would end.

But then I liked the earlier version

I thought it was something special

I thought I had scratched a layer

And revealed a depth of society.

Will I be content if it doesn’t get published?

Will I move on to something else?

Will I be able to let it go

Or will I spend ten years trying to fix it.

Like I did with Sadaf,

That novel that’s buried in my files.

The one I still have hope for

The one I mailed on Sept. 10th.

A friend told me to celebrate

But I think it is too soon

The t’s aren’t crossed

The i’s need dots

There is lots more work to do.

But still I must say I have accomplished

Something

I fought the inertia of status quo

I pushed my heart and nerve and sinew 

Like Rudyard Kipling said to do

And I think it’s good.

Now if only my editor would.