August 4, 2012

My father is watching me


my legs can't fit into the glass case
that defines my ideal adulthood
I crush and bruise myself trying to squeeze in
if I became mush to pour inside, the mold wouldn't walk
-I must try to grow from roots up

glutted with advice, write/wait/hope/lose/want
I construct myself into a tower of babel
reaching for god, future me
but I collapse before I'm tall
outside the window, my father is watching me

his eyes in my heart are saying:
glass and stone expectations, ideals and towers
are only my people serving me
seek only me
I am your blood your muscle your mind

3 comments:

Magistra said...

What a beautiful metaphor!
Thanks for sharing!

Caitriona aka Catherine said...

"seek only me" - that never grows old.

Art said...

and thanks for reading, Mom and Mrs. M! :)