Sunday, October 14, 2018

Si j'étais Moi-Même

Jenni Astramowicz October 14, 2018 October '18 Poetry Project

The trees

would know my name

and speak

softly

my want

in the afternoon breeze

The sea

would know my name

and carry

gently

my hopes

in ripples to the summer shore

The sky

would know my name

and see

clearly

my truth

in the golden hour

and

would hear the call

of wild geese

invite in
all the house guests

I would peel

my image

off the mirror

and feast on

my life

knowing

that

this

one

too

real

""You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." - The Velveteen Rabbit