Roulette
     by Janet Scott McDaniel

Tenuous 
our hold on life;
never knowing 
if our next breath
will be our last
by circumstance,
   or design.

How is change wrought-
stone
        to shifting sand?

We watched them fall 
from the towers;
ten seconds,
      a very public death.

How do you move 
beyond pain that eclipses
  rational thought?

She found him, 
life taken by choice,
    a private death.

What makes one person slip,
yet another 
                   fall?

Callous disregard for life,
media fodder.
Infirmities, accidents 
snuffing lives
of the old, 
and the young.

No distinction
between rich or poor,
color or creed.

Our tenuous hold

       the only sure thing 
       as we move through life

watching 
     the roulette wheel spin,

waiting 
     for the ball to drop.

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