August 2014

August 2014

by Carmen H Gray

 

When, then, did I begin?

Was it in the darkest peak of that death?

Or was it when I found that opening?

A deep and hollow gash

The natural result of an unforeseeable crash?

I do not come with a timeline

Or a rolodex of recipes

Neatly filed and perfectly spaced

No, that is not how I was placed

I saw myself at the start of that curve

And then again at the baker’s dozen glance

Turning once more at thirty four, a dance

Of four gilded edges forging

Like what we see in the night skies

The spiral galaxies that radiate

The cells within us that communicate

I am you and you are me

We relive each moment’s mystery

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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