imperfections

under the surface
we are free. all spirit
and essence waiting

for brokenness,
for the slightest flaw,
for an opening

where the true self
emerges as light,
escapes into being.

 

 

* Written last year in response to Robert Okaji’s beautifully haunting poem “His Softness”. After reading it several times, the phrase “somewhere, under the surface, / unattached” stayed with me and prompted this poem.

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