How to rid myself of the pedagogue father
speaking in my ear; how to be sublime while
naked – what to do with the imps in my head;
these are my questions – am I a contender,
a spiral baby, or a delicious piece of candy?
Once I was doll parts waiting for a piece of
string to cinch me together again – God could
have been that simple of an ideology. But I
have undone faiths knot of quandary and it
will be difficult to tie me up like that again.
So much in life is like trance, hypnosis, or
seduction. Will it ever be safe enough with so
many sirens startling hearts by their profusion?
Each day is a practice in remembering who I am,
what I want, where I might be going.
I am rain. I am shine. I am milk. I am gold.
I am word man. I am warrior strong and library
smart; the giant in the parade – the soft
underbelly of sensuality. Hear me coo, feel me
vibrate, watch me dance to a conclusion.
I am an outstretched hand, a peace negotiator;
I am the morning fresh with dew – the afternoon
bright with sun, an evening mischievous with
laughter – I remember everything I have ever
been or done.
I am radiant like a jewel, firm like a decision;
holy without regret. I am Job healing from god
wounds; a hermit taking off his alone clothes to
make love with destinies daughter; a child grown
up; a master finding home.