It always starts off
the same way.
It lingers on the threshold
of my reality,
leads me down old, familiar streets,
begging me to see.
All I recognize are personalities.
Something coaxed into being
by grey skies,
and uncertainty;
not an organic vision.
Sometimes,
it pleads with me
to be who I am,
but I can’t discern the question.
Is there really someone else
in here with me?
Is there somewhere else
I can be?
I shudder at the notion.
Left of the right,
right of the left.
This all means nothing.
In this transition,
all we can rely on
are “Up” and “Down”.
I am standing here,
hearing your voice
whisper poetry to me.
I am an escapee
of a former life,
and I can feel something,
like the first day
I opened my eyes.
HG – 2020