Mapping Astral Projection
I wake in the dream of my shame,
exalted by the breadth and scope of it.
This blood on my hands, whose is it? Mine
or yours? I cannot remember…
I am more loss than I am creation.
I am rubble, standing firm. I am a fallen
castle. I deserve this guilt, but must
relinquish it.
Grief: I carry the way a girl carries a doll,
tight and snug to her chest. I undress it at night to
show it my lacerations.
Sometimes we suffer too much reality.
I yearn to know you again, I yearn to know
myself. The rain always has its lessons:
A tree grows through
a rock and chooses to be
beautiful.
I am what I am.
I am what I am.
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