7233_281133245087_3207342_nunfold, uncoil, undo
the wrongs t’were done
until we can face up to the sun,
stripped of the hypocrisies
that our cowardice
made us don;
it weighing too much –
the fake that we carry
is too heavy
our back crushed:
so we finally give in
fold in –
into a self-embrace

written in response to:
Rainer Maria Rilke’s Unfolding (trans. Robert Bly)

I want to unfold.
I don’t want to stay folded anywhere,
because where I am folded,
there I am a lie.
And I want my grasp of things
true before you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I looked at closely for a long time,
like a saying that I finally understood,
like the pitcher I use every day,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that took me safely through the wildest storm of all.


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