That I had to face my Shadow before it ate me?
Before it drank me to death?
Can you not see
That a human being is an entire range of becoming
from soul to feet
and beyond that
and beneath that
And Oh yes, we are glorious
We are glorious and petty...
We are sweet and ugly...
And the petty and the ugly do not go away if one becomes an ostrich
The weakest link in the chain does not go away because its existence is denied...
When one is in exile, words become swords to face the loneliness.
They become a promise to one's self to live...
For if I swallowed my rage it would engulf me
And If I drowned in my fear it would kill me
So the promise to myself:
to write in the face of anger
ugly and disappointed and sordid as they are...I shall live, I shall live
When one is in prison one does time
and words shape the time
take the time to feel how we feel
oh I am a lonely tree
We become afraid of another's Shadow when instead we must face our own.