Page 3: Poems

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I’ll tell you what I’d like my mortal human expression to be.

A gentle presence. Purely compassion.

A solid construction made to soothe others.

I’ve lived a life of service. But not in the way I want.

Yet I know altruism is an impossible trait. I cannot escape my own narcissism, my own selfish inclinations.

I am spoiled. I may not recover.

Perhaps this is what makes me still wake-up tied down by my own weight, A sagging of shoulders, a tiredness behind my eyes.

It's like I'm carrying within me the battle scars of my ancestors.

All I know is that I want to bend the laws of my own body.

The pounding of my feet on ruthless cement has warped my bones.

Already, I feel creaky, like an old house.

Will this body fail me so soon? Sometimes I fear that. Arthritis whispering their sweet nothings in my fingertips.

There is so much to conquer first; so many trails to wind my body around.

I feel I am bent inward lately.

How freeing it would be to raise my spine, to stand fully with the expression of myself?

I am two beings in one. Free and trapped all at the same time.

I make efforts to commune with the dimension in which I’ve been born, But somehow I know this body isn’t the end of me.

It is simply a shell for a soul not yet actualized.

"All I know is that I want to bend the laws of my own body."

laurengrothe