Who? is hard. What? less so:
A bundle, a ganglion of fears
and hopes; a reptile brain
binary switching, snip-snap, between
life and the other; an eye, an ear,
a mouth, a nose... who knows?
A memory, mimic, mirror, though
speckled, smeared, unclear,
it gives back little; then again
perhaps you think you've seen
a shape something like yours here,
or heard familiar echoes, you suppose...
There is, they say, nobody in the driving seat
at all; no me, no you, no discrete
self to be, for self itself's a sham,
forms, fluid and dissolving, are our complete
story. Yet, still, we hear ourselves repeat,
'Who is it who can tell me who I am?'
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7 comments:
This one buzzes and scintillates; a pleasure to read aloud. A pell-mell feel in a wonderfully directed winding of verse, Lucy!
Yes, delightful and deep at the same time.
hurrah from whoever I am...
"forms, fluid and dissolving, are our complete story." Maybe. But what is consistent and never far away is the crocodile, snip-snipping binary fashion at some feeble-minded gazelle. A Nile crocodile, in fact, capable of moving its body and tail sinuously to achieve 30 - 35 km/h. Niles have a rich vocal range and good hearing, apparently.
Crocodile? Nile? Who are you? Perhaps the last pharaoh.
Who is this who asks?
Who knows - least of all me. The best Icould do would be to say who I'm not.
A wonderfully crafted soliloquy full of firecrackers - "nose" and "knows" - I like the stoccato rhythms of "A memory, mimic, mirror, though/speckled, smeared, unclear..."
Lucy, this is a deep one!
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