Secret

Secret

There are times when you pause

and I can't seem to look at noon

in a day that seems ordinary  - should be right  -

you look at the lines and you realize

that everything  is wrong;

the worn carpet is wrong ,

your thoughts about tomorrow are wrong,

your own skin is wrong ,

the molecules between the air is the wrong size.

I look at the length of my arm,

from elbows  to the tips of my short nails,

and wonder how can I still be alive -

why am I still alive in a space, a place

that has long been ready to release me.

How can I move forward into the next second

into the next slide into the future ?

it rejects me ; transparent cement wall

of postponed, prolapsed possibility

I looked at my past and

I see those walls strung one next to the other

as like and as unlike as pearls can be.

Somehow I have slid between them -

like secrets not knowing they exist-

maybe it's wrong-sized molecules of air

allowing me to phase through as a mutant

continuing my progression through the wrong days.

I have made my decisions, made my strategies

and they seemed right

But I was blind . I did not see the walls .

did not see my own skin for the fragile thing it is.

Ariel

Dec 10, 2011