Vessel

Standing at the chasm
of unspoken truth
deep the denial...
echoes of a soul
crying to be heard...
begging for the smallest
attention.


Is this a love
of required duties?
the words like chains
binding me to a self
I don't want to be...
retreating...
trapped.


Who is speaking now?
Why does this heart
need for anything?
Why does my gift
suddenly require
recognition?
confused.


I've already played
this role seemingly
before me
stagnant
with the decay
of remembered
pain.


Why does truth
make me feel
so alone?
emptied...
of my endless
excuses...
naked.


I am awake
rising
from troubled
slumber
nightmares
of excused exile...
stripped.


attuned...
intent..
focused...
prepared...
a cup is useful
only
when it is empty.



Feb 1997