Becoming Poem by William Graham

Becoming

Rating: 4.0


In my twelfth year, my declaration of independence
Came as I sunk into a worn red leather chair
Under the spinning fan in a public library
On a blistering Midwest summer day.
The sun slashed through the cathedral windows
Onto the scuffed wood floor as I read widely
In history and science. I decided then that
There was no God. I liberated myself from
The clergy who had hovered around me like flies
Since I had emerged from the warm womb.
Immersed in silent contemplation, I knew
That my path would be a lonely one.
As I walked past the massive checkout desk—
Anchored to the floor like a Great Lakes freighter—
Into the glaring sunlight that splashed on the
Sizzling concrete, I knew that I had to find
Meaning in what I could see. I have
Gazed intently since that summer day.

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