Body of Water
***
Each morning I take form,
Shaking loose the worms in my brain.
My consciousness decides the vestibule,
Which I am to commandeer.
I am alive? I question
To God or no one,
All while,
Habitual force consumes
Any semblance of a soul,
prodded with pointed stick.
I always found amusement
From the strange and the foul.
My essence has not changed,
remaining soft, vulnerable, weak.
Try as I might to strengthen resolve—
Oil the tongue; crank the shaft—
Nothing dispels ineptitude,
For living in a world such as ours;
To appear is that which I am.
My glass affords neither safety,
Nor luxury. I am chipped,
And when I crack—which I do
Often and well—the pieces
Never seem to return.
I am tired of pain.
I am tired of losing
Parts of myself
I never knew I had.
The paint chips;
The cracks deepen.
I sprang a leak,
While fearing the side
Time had taken.
Soon, I surmise, little
Will be left of me.
I will find growth
Through gritty acceptance.
My faith holds firm and true,
For my lord of Smoke
And my lord of Mirror.
Loosen the grip;
Embrace the fall
With whatever demeanor
Best suits the occasion.
Abandon vessel; I will find
Identity through anguish.
Sylvie's Portfolio 
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