Dear boy who fell off my ladder;
Whether I wanted it or not,
you left plastered with green paint
becoming a matched set for my house.

I do not want a boy matched house set
Yet I cannot shake the notion
I am now responsible for you.

Will you please give up your sad story?
Will you write a new one for me
Promising something bigger
Than a fall from my ladder?

I'm in a new place,
A silent inner stop.
Alone. Deep and still.
A well with narrow walls
With  no way out.
I see nothing.
I am a weight, dangling but steady.
The heavy sense of done is unfamiliar and I am afraid.
Be there. Be there.

I am the house of the Self
With many rooms to explore.

I have been wandering this house
Since I was born or before.

I did not know the house,
Did not know it was mine.

When it did not seem to match
I was doomed to live confined.

Watching others come and go
All I knew was to endure.

I was frightened by the house
Not recognizing it as mine.

Lately, though, I began to see,
It is my house of Self,
each room my mystery.

The house waits patiently
For me to find the key.

And unlock the door,
Buried deep inside me.

A ****** of crows, an ostentation of peacocks,
a parliament of owls, a knot of frogs,

a skulk of foxes, a siege of herons,
a paddling of ducks, a charm of finches.

This bevy of birds is a vocabulary find,
But what can it all mean,
In the world of human being?

A troop of toddlers, a slurry of students,
a gaggle of gentry, a bevy of boys.

I am of a mind that in naming of kind
Human being is best defined.

The monster has lived there since I can recall,
So long I often forget to remember him at all.

When he does show up, he never knocks,
But rather climbs into my brain as if he belongs.

He leaves me dark and leaves me weak,
He even takes my memories so that I cannot speak.

In my mind, he is always me, whether he resides under the bed
Or in my sleep, or in my head.

One thing I have never tried,
is to receive him in and let him abide.

I Have Lived A Backwards Life
I have no idea why it is.

But I decided at the end
To turn around and head back again,

With no right way to find,
I am setting out afresh.

Traveling now without a map
But easier to go
Without my will to bend.

I have no idea why
Yet I am eager to begin.

I AM NOT MY MOTHER

I am not afraid
I am fearless

I am not flawed
I am whole

I am not sick
I am well

I am not uncomfortable
I am comfort and the world is mine

I AM NOT MY MOTHER – Judi romaine