Zippered Self


Date of Original Post:  August 22, 2013

shapeimage_1 (8).png


To return is to begin again.

Sorting out the selves, 

In holdable piles.


I try them all on at once.

They fit, sort of.

But then again, it’s too many selves to know.


Removing them, I start from scratch.

This is the place to begin again.

In between two worlds.

The large culture and the small.

Both, with their imposing language of distraction,

knock me down.


But there is more than that,

there is this thing I am doing, 

something radical and secret and quiet

something so very mine,

that I dare not say it.


Identity is a flimsy and beautiful thing.

It is a symbol suit to wear for others.

I try it on and zip it up.


Not ready yet for meaning,

I lie down, 

ready to receive the rain.


After all, I have a body that speaks to me


with messages that reach beyond cultures.


The body knows more than the

flimsy zippered self.