Sometimes

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
From bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
Faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
Elect an honest man; decide they care
Enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they are born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
Amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
That seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

-- by Sheenagh Pugh

I'd forgotten how much punk and hard rock can keep you fighting in the war on your own tendency toward emo. I am steadied, have dealt with the bad news and re-centered in some better headspace. This better place is accepting that A's life is her own to throw away, and if I'm clinging to a need for her to live, then the clinging is my own problem, not hers. I would feel less sad if her self-destruction were accompanied by spiritual advancement or some visible satisfaction derived from what she's doing. Maybe she's just really circumspect about it . . .