the challenging.

I want to live so authentically

And bleed

I want to experience hunger pangs

Feel that sweat streaming

I want to realize that this life isn’t about me.

 

Constant pronouns

Constant incessant advertisements on who we’re meant to be.

I am not me.

I am not who you make of me.

Your projections, recitations of “oh you’d make…”

I let things reach me too easily.

I let that guard down because I can foolishly trust

Or I don’t know how to take a grain of salt where I ought to,

Must.

 

I thought I find life worthwhile in serving.

Like, my life has no worth other than in serving others.

That’s where I think,

There’s anything of worth –

But like I’d ask in psychology classes

Isn’t altruism just a selfish way of saying,

Hey I do good, ‘cause it makes me feel good;

How about when it doesn’t?

When it pushes that uncomfortable envelope

When you work past barriers of your own strictures

When you traverse lands, when you traverse grudges

To forgiveness.

 

It’s hard, to let go.

It’s hard to reframe your mind and try to re-see

What your viewpoint of life has been, so readily.

 

To learn to love

In sense of being.

06/27/17

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Author: gerbilette

Write, edit, be. Write, love, poetry.

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