by Anna Breslin

Piercing through
half-open blinds,
shadows dance
distorted around me
as light moves with day.

I am myself, sliced
into light’s pieces
yesterday, tomorrow,
today, and
just this breath.

True north,
was more magnetic
in my youth.
Now my compass
points float
on the wind.

Wandering, wondering,
ruminating discursively,
pressure enters my body
through every cell of my skin.

Life, a story to write
and yet, I am myself
endless pages of words
crossed out.

I am unwilling to be
a cliche tale
of midlife reinvention.

It’s not so trite
as the label would suggest —
casting off roles,
cultural expectations
randomly assigned
in double helix twists.

I inhaled a uniform
from my first moment,
like a fish in a bowl,
yet I have never
belonged to this shell.

Does anyone
belong to their constructs
wholly without resistance
or consideration?


I want to rebuild,
because I’ve learned
at least one thing –
nothing is by necessity


© 2019, A. Breslin. All Rights Reserved

Image Credit: Paul Klee, “ opened” 

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