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Still Life, with Tulips and Fruit Bowl - Suzanne Valadon
what I stem from in view
the too small pot with too little soil
yet, I appear whole, to have grown
placed between things to balance
my God, it works to provide support
the moments of perfection, so brief!
I must hold my breath, linger
~ the fear and knowledge of self
overwhelms, terrifies, confuses...
I know, you know, that I'll stop looking pretty
everything about me will fall to the floor
I'll shrink back until I bloom again
I can't change a damned thing!
cycles of adoration
out-of-sight contempt
seemingly fully owned, accepted by me
I feel for those that share my space
incidentally by my side
I should not sob out this earth's despair
we could all ensemble so nicely
if I'm just quiet
accept
what survives alone
is a start and end date
fixed to a spot
tethered to knowing
all of before, during and after
until hidden again beneath the ground
perhaps to rot, perhaps to strive again
within the same 'just enough' confines
satisfied somehow
to look pretty for a moment
that I grew, no matter, that I managed it
for stark awareness
to shake my lack of foundation
as the darkened room envelopes me
futility: the reality of our composition
I'm already forgetting
with nothing to grasp, to hold onto
fleeting revelation
déjà vu and nyctinasty
sleep and waking
realisation and amnesia
death and life and waiting
always quietly waiting
for it to make sense
Copyright ©
Di11y Da11y
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