April 7: Self-portrait

Self-portrait

 

Self-portrait

Of all that I love about myself, the mind
I love the most: a haven for my bleeding heart,
a ship that sojourns through space and takes me far away,
a lonely grove where I may contemplate
things and people unreal, a gentle tree I rest against
and forget the peels of thundering angst—
but that is not all I am, though it is the part I love the most.

Some might call me arrogant, but they do not know my evil twin
my sneering genius that continually sabotages me, distracting
with alluring fantasies and who keeps my mind occupied
while the situation deteriorates outside my mind…
perhaps I’m just mad and need help, but then I think: what would I
be without those places to dream of, my escapes? an empty shell
dying of misery, surely – and they cannot take that away from me.

My body has perhaps suffered the most, a headache in and of itself,
though my heart is not what it once was, either; but the body
is beautiful in vestiges and crumbling to another perspective,
filled with painful lacerations that never seem to heal, but truth:
the body is what is of me the least real in its volatile rebellions…
all I do is squirm to think of things denied me for it, but truth:
what need have I of a perfect body when I have my mind?

The heart is a curious, whimsical and magical place, stuffed
with moonlit corridors and a myriad of shelves: this is the place
of collections, things of love and anguish, secrets and mystical
concoctions, but most of all: riddled with things not to toy with;
so many lovers have aching strings attached, most unreal, and
in the deepest place is a pool of sorrow where I gather all I’ve lost—
a place where the unwilling wanderer hides, mourning her life…

Weakness has its claim on me, and failure is an old friend,
separation is the harsh chisel in the hands of my sculptor, but
strife I can thrive in… when I’m in my better moments…
always moving and always so many demands, but through it all
my life is a fantasy to be envied, so I always say, things may
turn out right or wrong, but no one can take my pillars of strength:
no matter that others may hurt me, I have love enough hidden in myself.

 

April 7, 2014

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