Inflection
To the ones who feel deeply,
Some days, the desire is not to be seen, but to be held safely within ourselves. This poem came from that quiet place between wanting to disappear and remembering that becoming rooted within ourselves is its own form of survival.
Photo by Chris F
Some days, I pray for rain,
and on other days, I crave the sun.
And in the moments where I wish to disappear,
just to be anything other than me,
to gently grasp with my fingertips
the desire of being normal,
not this insurmountable pressure
stacked against the
clavicle of my chest,
I cleave to the comfort
of wanting the mundane
and predictable.
So, I seek out the moon for obscurity,
to cozy myself into
this state of anonymity.
Then I regain my balance,
come back to my senses,
and understand that what I crave
more than the fleeting settings
of seasonal bliss
is to find security
and a home within myself
that is impenetrable,
as solid as the Earth’s core,
able to endure
through the pillaging of my surface
and the mass destruction
of the toxicity raging around me.