poem

without dismissal

1.

I am your opus,

your final creation,

an abstraction

from acts of love or anger.

it was accidental

without dismissal.

2.

how do the mute seek absolution

in anonymity,

how are curtains drawn against Johari,

freedom exhausts itself drawn in circles,

concentric and misleading, misled.

I am your opus,

your final creation,

an abstraction

from acts of love or anger.

it was accidental

without dismissal.

3.

the scars are there, mine

imbalances accounted for, mine

glass walls firmly held in situ

but cleaned.

the stale air loosening.

4.

I am number three, four if your must know.

but I deny one as I am not denied;

bearing witness wasn’t easy but I never turned;

now bearing the marks of each life I saw took.

I am your opus,

your final creation,

an abstraction

from acts of love or anger.

it was accidental

without dismissal.