DEDICATED TO ME

I have been low of late, ironically triggered (I think) by my "official" retirement, as if part of me is lost forever; but I know that being mostly silent and in bed again is stupid.

In the old days I would often write in the third-person, to not acknowledge myself to others, but here I've reworked an old poem to acknowledge myself to me: "DEDICATED TO T.P." (That Person) has become "DEDICATED TO ME"….

DEDICATED TO ME

This night is as quiet as me,

as cool as my feeling inside,

and the skies as clear as free space

in my thoughtless apathy.

My warm bed is protection,

wombed from the world

in fragile contentment,

but as a child is born,

expelled to the world

and struggles to survive,

I will be reborn;

as surely as nature's inevitability,

alive or stillborn,

and must develop

in my eiderwomb,

if I am not to die. 

Back to the original version ...

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