Uncontained

I am
messy, big, undefined.
A mishmash, hodgepodge
of syncretic secrets and 
stories spun. And synthetic 
soothsayers have uttered
curses across oceans and
lies over land. And i have
tried placing neat, little
boxes around futures 
unfolding. 

And i am somewhere
but not sure when.
It has been ages since i sat 
on a yellow river’s edge or at 
the base of my altar to certain
survival. The everyday slog
of cog and capitulation is 
what sticks, leads me straight
to dead dreams and little
remembered.

i used to 
pray before the big man
of unbalanced bliss. The
cobblestones of intent were just
another reason to fear the wrath 
of yet-determined paths, forks in 
the road, decisions. But then it 
dawned on me that a break 
in the day is one blessing. i 
sense the sun, though it 
be behind a cloud.  

i still feel
the need to lay down, to stretch
out the short waves of doomed 
scrolls and panicked projections,
of the unwinnable race and  
nonstop buzzing, until they are
flat lines. i must submerge my 
burdened muscles into the water
of revival. I am not meant to die
by capital misdirection and be
baptized in manufactured chaos.

And I am
illegible, even to myself. So 
definition escapes me in the need
to be called. There is only trust in 
the protective rejections and 
sudden spills that bleed across
id-entification. Unbending worlds 
not designed to cradle the babies
of surf and soft earth will know that 
the breath of life has many names,
uncontained.