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.
