I'm not myself lately
I hear the words from my lips and wonder, then who am I? there is a constant drive. there is a hum under the words, the beating of my heart, there is a moment in every day where I stop and wonder, Who is this I, this self, whom I am not, lately? Who is it, then, who is experiencing this life, if not I? and I tie myself up in knots, and I feel the thread slip from under my finger. Do you know the thread? The thread Princess Irene follows, up to her grandmother's room, away from the goblins? I put out my finger, and I cannot feel it. I put my hand into the back of the wardrobe, and it's solid behind the coats. there is a hum under the words, a flutter in the chest, and every day there are more lines around my mouth, and around my eyes. I am not myself. and I think of the poem by Juan Ramon Jimenez. and I think of the thread. and my hands are like my mother's, and I wish hers were here, so we could hold our same-same hands together. So I could find the thread, the one that stretches up to my grandmother's room. So I could read their eyes in my own, their love in the lines around those eyes. These eyes. So I may be myself. Comments are closed.
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AuthorSara Renee Logan has been telling stories to everyone who would listen since she was seven. She organized storytimes for her college roommates, and spent a year at Oxford studying folklore and folktales. Many years as a Waldorf teacher allowed her to tell stories about everything from Baba Yaga's hut on chicken legs to the water cycle to the life of Joan of Arc. Sara shares her life with her partner, Melanie, their son, and an unreasonable family of pets. She continues to share her love of storytelling and stories with audiences of all ages, specializing in bringing the wild beauty of folktales to young and old. Sara writes about parenting, storytelling, and about living a life with stories. Categories
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January 2021
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