18 – This is me

Molted self,
a variation discarded
on this wide expanse
of storm-washed beach,
where winds give and take
and waves give and take

am I the given or the taken?

how does one know
it’s time to change?
make one’s way
from this to that,
from here to there.
what is the calling that says
writhe out of these confines
wade back in — raw and ready
for surely this is the raw state
shorn of the old, naked and exposed
lacking familiar comfort
save for legs that move me
ever forward,
this blue ocean in my veins.

 

Poem ©2019, Jen Payne. National Poetry Month #18 and NaPoWriMo poem. Photo courtesy of U.S. Geological Survey. #NaPoWriMo. For more poetry by Jen Payne, purchase a copy of Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind! BUY THE BOOK TODAY!

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