If I Were You

But I am you

and each distressing dispute

this black and white thinking

us versus them

good versus evil

you versus me

gifts

so subtle

I must bend and bow

to examine the crushed

twig

like a gleaming arrow

in my narrow focus.

Pointing to salvation.

Salvation, the name of

the highway

it has no end

scenic byways

and hypnotized trancewalks

labyrinths of awareness.

I’m aware that my sanctuary —

long-cultivated isolation

arises from fright

a deepdown certainty

that if you couldn’t love me

it is because at the root

I am 

— oh, god, those harsh hands

those wicked words

when I gathered all the shame

and locked myself 

into the place bad girls

must go —

not worthy.  

A reprisal handed down

through generations

of cowed children.

We rise up

from the earth like waves

the particle we inhabit

seemingly separate

in this one sunlit moment

our chance to sing

praises 

to the skies

muttering I hurt

you hurt me

hurt us

us

hurt

 

Inspired by #OctPoWriMo Day 13: If I Were You (suggested form, blitz, but I chose a different way.  Go figure!)

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

4 thoughts on “If I Were You”

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