Poem The Valley of Division

The Valley of Division 

Taken in the Cradle of Mankind, Gauteng, South Africa

I’m tired of mustering up the courage

to be myself

So far

its proved to be

                                                an elusive beast

I’m not sure

it even exists

I thought there were treasures

shimmering

 in the cave of my soul

nothing tepid

brutally pristine

But every time I stooped to pick one up

dust

flew through

my fingers

My soul facing its earthly life looks out

through vitreous eyes 

filtering

layers of shoulds and oughts and musts have occluded my moon

Seventy seven times have I skinned myself

looking for me

Each skinning leaves me raw and stinging

Every time I look into the mirrors of eyes I see a different me

so which one am I?

There is one man who…

one man whom I can call a liberator…

when I look into his eyes and he into mine

I see nothing

but light

no edges to myself

So why

can’t I stay

in that vision?

What is it that draws me back

from staying there in the light?

Yet

I return to

the valley of division.

Tenderness wells up and tells me

to listen

Be – not your self –

just be.