If only the water wouldn’t stick
My oilskin boundary
My insides robust
If the everyday
Was less inflammatory
Not so inclined to cut through
My shell
To poke at innards
Already hot and tender
If I was born with grace and ease
I would know how to move
Within and without
Without feeling like
I have been skinned
Each nerve exposed
To hot continuous zapping
If only I knew enough
To feel flow within
A cool meandering stream
Between thought and feeling and doing
And wanting and having
And to meet the self
Face on
Not sideways at a glance
Not peeking round a corner
Nor glimpsing the ghost of myself
To be me
And for me to feel that I am
And for that to be enough


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