For a moment I break, and break again, and come together for an instant in the motion of my life from birth towards death. And looking through the cracks something sparkles so brightly it burns my eyes.
I am broken and a painfully beautiful work of art, have danced for my dinner and dined with the rich, am both audience and musician, master and servant, both burnout and brilliant. I have ridden on the railcar of death and survived, have held the door, have lifted my boot, have stood by while others starved or were beaten. I am what I fear others see and I am what I know myself to be.
From transmigration to transmigration all history lies within me and I am seeking both redress and redemption. And this poem is an apology for things that I have done and have not done, things I dare not, or cannot. This is a statement of things about me that others will never know.
This poem is a reminder to me that there is a Divine “I” inside me that is all of myself and more than me. My self is only dough that waits to be shaped from the inside. This poem is a reminder to myself that I should get off my ass and get to work.