“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Saturday, June 8, 2019
A turning of the Blind I
It would be
an act of empathy
if only
we were able to turn a blind eye
inward
when feeling
our way around
soft dirt
and sharp diamonds
with only our bare hands.
We focus
on bettering ourselves
Daily
instead of making ourselves
feel
better
daily.
From the first mud pie
we are taught to make
to the first brick of the fortresses
we build around our heart
to keep out
more than intended
being
the eager makers we have made
ourselves
to be-
merciful
we
wage battles,
venturing outside our dwellings
for a time
feeling our way
a-round
the perimeter
tempted to go
as far as the I
can see.
Eventually,
we arrive with new visions
and
without any tangible evidence
of our travels.
Painting by Paula Modersohn-Becker, 'Self-portrait with hat and veilt' c. 1906-07 in [Public domain].
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