This Thing Poem by Robert J Meyer

There are other things -
Objects that hold no mythic grasp
Upon the heart of the owner -
But this is not one.

This is a totem
Representative of a primordial me,
The me struggling to escape the indoctrination
Of well-meaning nuns and teachers
Who warped me as they tried to weave me
Whole, but distorted.

This is an amulet
Containing powers released by that moment
When the me I am today first germinated,
Wobbly and still ill-formed,
Lacking subtlety and prior to new assaults
Visited by this new life.

This is a marker
Signifying an end and beginning,
The grave and the cradle,
The death of a child,
The birth of a man,
The essential now.

Such is this thing
I carry from one abode to another
In this resurrection
Which must have an ending.