Two: Boundaries
I could live many
lifetimes
without understanding me or my mother,
where one leaves off and the other begins
just for starters.
I try hard to be different,
flailing drunkenly
as common waves consume me.
For too long a dark cylinder fills me
while I beg for mercy,
conjure forgiveness and pledge compassion.
The walls I build don't hold,
they only enflame the intruder who creeps mercilessly
back inside
to braid truth and lies into a double helix.
A lifetime curse
created by me to ward off a fear
too vague or too horrific to know.
I no longer flee those icy tentacles
that shorten my breath,
always catching me short,
until I remember to draw long breaths,
to release myself into the reality of knowledge
and intention and my silent petition
for transformation.
Jean Gilreath, June 1999 JGilr2831@aol.com
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