Monique
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Working on it...
🕑 Added 2017-03-23 05:09:18 +0000 UTC Even in the discomfortOf imbalance,
Through my frustration
With oft-repeated relapses
And desperate missteps,
Might I rest in the awkward
Of my smallness
Towards this cavernous swallow;
A frail fortuity in the hollow coarseness
Of possibility versus promised tomorrow?
When my eyes burn with sights
That can never be unseen,
When my mind is a nightmarish, clamorous scream
When 'center' is but a romantic name for just a vacant dream,
Deserted me,
I will stammer about my plumb line
Assuredly.
I will rest into gravity.
And fall with dignity.
I must not shrink into my shortcomings
Nor by my fatigue, be tucked into the doldrums,
Of demotion, of deprivation, of doubt.
I will not lie down beneath the weight
Of all I've gone without.
Tween the ebb and flow of my fluidity
I shall find meter in throbbing mutability.
For, there's a sublime sobriety
Inside of me
In spite of my
Disquieting
Anxiety, impiety,
Rioting
With heaps of bitter irony.
I'm working on it, albeit graceless.
Each time, I fall more lithe and weightless.
And in all my smallness
I am not afraid
To take up space.
[Thank you to John Joseph for this image]
