The Law Of Gravity Poem by Jean Renwick

Water drains always seem to be
at not quite the lowest place
and puddles form to the side of them.
With me it’s just the same –

Information and emotions collect
out of reach, not where they should
glancing off a reservoir of
neither sponge nor porous wood.

Therefore, I live off-kilter
removed from where the action is.
I receive only a portion of the nourishment.
What reality is this?

And just as water by its very nature
cannot freely flow up hill –
so must I continue in this
state against my will.