oftentimes <br />i find my voice <br />not to my liking <br />the sound of it <br />reminds me of <br />prison windows <br />the east river in january <br />or empty lots <br />gardened by slumlords <br /> <br />somedays <br />the mirror tells me <br />to look away <br />that face <br />forever soured <br />by 33 years <br />of 33 years <br />regardless <br />of the joys <br />carefully tended to <br />and nurtured <br />in my soul's nursery <br /> <br />my body <br />has plotted <br />with my mind <br />to overthrow <br />my spirit <br /> <br />over the years <br />as a child <br />ripe with fantasies <br />i imagined <br />my skin peeling back <br />and giving way <br />like a chrysalis <br />to reveal <br />the diamond armor <br />i wore in my dreams <br />and my face <br />my real face <br />would finally <br />agree with me <br />and smile <br /> <br />aging <br />brought me <br />the despairing knowledge <br />of me: <br />i would do <br />no great things <br />i would not <br />be heard <br />and all i would amount to <br />would be what <br />was left to put <br />in the ground <br /> <br />the many pieces of me <br />i have catalogued <br />over the slow and <br />plodding <br />parade of years <br />display a checklist <br />of items <br />that amount to <br />a lesser value <br />than what they equal <br /> <br />it is those <br />moments when <br />i become suddenly <br />aware of one <br />particular part <br />of my body- <br />the tingle of <br />a hair on <br />my arm <br />a slight swelling <br />in my aikido thumb <br />the subliminal tightness <br />of my facial scar- <br />that cause a smile <br />to dawn upon <br />my lips <br /> <br />seperate entities <br />of sensation <br />reminding me <br /> <br />i am not what i see <br /> <br />i am more <br />than who i am<br /><br />alexandre arnau<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/un-becoming-the-sum-of-my-parts/
