I say ‘I don’t know’ to all of the above.
Not knowing – or telling you that I don’t –
erects walls and
stops me from crawling inside and
means that I don’t have to search and
find that there is nothing there;
because that would mean
I am merely a collection of bones –
skin stretched over and
wrapped around thin air.
Perhaps I am a vaccuum.
Perhaps I am strong
because I haven’t imploded under the pressure
because I haven’t scratched myself raw;
because I haven’t sucked my bones dry.
Perhaps there is more to me than I think.
Perhaps I’ll know then,
what that moment feels like.
This week, on dVerse Poetics, Marina Sofia has asked to write poetry about our identities, and has pointed us in the direction of Bhanu Kapil’s book ‘The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers’.
Ugh. Tricky. We are always changing, going through transitions of one kind or another, but after seeing Bjorn’s helpful early morning post and poem on this, I was determined that I’d not be taking part today. As you can see, I changed my mind…
In short, I haven’t got a bloody clue who I am and today, I don’t feel wonderful about that fact. As you can probably tell from my offering above. Tomorrow, it will probably sit better with me.
Marina Sofia asked us to look at four questions in particular:
1) Who are you and whom do you love?
2) What else are you, that no one has seen before?
3) Describe a morning you woke without fear.
4) What lingers when all is said and done?
I hope you enjoy my piece – please do visit dVerse to read the wonderful poems form our diverse, dVerse community!