PERSONAL
Who will I be tomorrow?
I woke up like I was late for an “all year round” party.
my memory mocked me because
I lost some of my fragments,
I nourished myself with rice and sardines soup mixed with eggs —
[–ever heard of it before?– it’s rich and nutritious –]
then I got ready for a life-changing appointment
that would bring back my spark for real
I stood like I sold my soul to the music gods,
I hummed some songs that I recently wrote,
catchy melody, bop pop — playful lyrics —
about childhood nostalgia
and wallowing back in the 80s and 90s
as I was fixing myself —
I knew who I was
then my ever caring and thoughtful landlady
brought me a big chunk of banana bread,
I was a princess, I owned a little kingdom
until I felt compelled to check on a so-called friend,
who blasted about a series of ridiculous interviews
she had to fight through for a job position:
kitchen help at a sushi shop!
“WTF! This is a commoner’s job! Why do they
make me feel like I’m applying to become a
goddamn President?”
I listened as I questioned my moral duties —
the ‘friendship business’ was too much for
my blood pressure to endure so —
goodbye
went to see a master who gave me
my dignity back —
I was a superstar ‘again’, much like in my twenties,
nah, that’d be quantum leaping as dreamers would say,
okay then, soul stripping must now begin
received a message from the wicked witch
of a distant past — asking for her ugly garments back,
the ones I wore that weakened my magical powers,
no response yet as I would rather orb my way in and out
to protect my divinity —
I was an archangel that just won the race against
the dark forces
did a little bit of grocery shopping,
showed humanity, was also shown the same,
went home richer with an eye-catching smile
that calmed some spirits down,
damn it, I was such a beautiful human
got home, devoured supper,
caught up some crushing news,
listened to —
silence, seclusion, peace
all I wanted —
no need for desperation anymore,
make it seamless, that’s what makes it hard
to figure out —
but it’s all worth it for sure
I am a hermit.
I am a poet.
I am a writer.
That’s who I was and will always be.
According to my stunning memory.
No, I didn’t wake up late. I woke up way too early.
Being broken was far more important than ‘feeling’ whole.
Oh yeah? “Will you exclaim that one last time?”
Being broken is far more important than ‘feeling’ whole!
[It is why “you are what you do.”]
[Sorry if such an epiphany pissed you off, though.]
***