Once, they told me, I ate a lizard’s tail.
My flattered ears overcame the suddenness
of my once overcurious infant tongue
and thought I was destined
to conquer great walls
with my astounding sense of balance,
and a strong gut for all things disgusting.
But I didn’t become a gymnast.
My cravings for the way
of the video game warrior was
impeded by my muscles
stiff from the long hungry walks
across many dusty pavements of my town.
But sometimes when small concrete bars
split the land between the living soil
and the trodden concrete
like a child I trod my feet
one over the other
and spread my wings
with both confidence and cowardice
like the spirit of the hero
against the lava pit of hell.
And when friendly faces
urge me to abandon my way
and share in the flowing
cornucopia of blinding lights
and blasted sounds
and bubbling drinks
I with my proud mouth and neck
decline, for my mouth
the warrior’s way
I presently tread.
And this is what I’ve become:
a magician against the untamed ether,
a soldier against a faceless war,
a priest against a tempting stillness,
a thief against an encrypted maze,
a god, a creator, against a void
that creates me.
I look inside me
and stare at it
and traverse it
and chart it
with the instruments
and puzzles that are my memories.
Will it be filled or
will it be the act of filling it
that will make or break me?
Breathing, I look at the beige walls
that shelter my path and paint in them
the sky that used to morph
the landscapes of my youth.
On them lived small kings
who crawled and conquered walls
and destroyed bugs and ants
with the terror of their tongue.
This– the taste of freedom.
The same I blessed
my foolish mouth to have
as I face again the blank wall
I too was meant to conquer.
Poem No. 5 for this week’s theme, “writing summer.” It has skies, so it’s related? (I am running out of ideas here. hahahahahahaha)