The Separation

I am made of clay.

Layer upon layer; year atop year.

A thick dried mud, cracked, brittle and broken.

Yet molded in place.

My warrior legs carry me,

to and from places that I don’t remember.

For how could I if I didn't exist?

A shudder of life taken at birth

By a mother, empty, once child was born.

And yet still I am:

Arms, legs, fingers, toes

Lips, breasts, genitals

Eyes, ears, tongue and toes

Fragment’s dancing, decomposed.

People see me; they think I’m real.

Sometimes I let that become me

I laugh, and sing, I swim and dance,

while hearing a song so sweet, I too believe.

Until the still of night

When I am alone

With nothing left to do

But mourn the sorrows deep inside

That demand I face the truth.

But I chose sleep

I dream in color

A vibrant shield, surrounding me while I open my skin

without the slightest flinch

I allow shape to form so I can fly away

But the cruel hour of morning

Turns color to shadow

And I awaken without memory

To become once again the lost child whose life

Is merely about survival