Needy? A weakness.
I will not admit that I
am lonely down here.
This is what I want.
Second-guessing is weak, too.
I guess I’m not strong.
I thought love was strength—
the force that holds your chin up.
Where did it all go?
I left it behind—
forgot to pack it up tight
with the plates, bowls and
other fragile things.
Strong, brittle; weak, unyielding;
study-in-contrast—
clingy, dependent,
I wanted to be alone.
That wish was granted.
I have the quiet
I didn’t have at home,
helping with focus.
But can ideas spring
from nothingness? I’d be me,
with a God complex.
I have the freedom
to do whatever I want—
a green light for sin.
But none to sin with.
And so it goes; juxtaposed
sense of good and bad,
unsure what I want,
needful of some foundation,
a place for my church.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem