My Me

I feel filled empty
amid shallow height.
on the diameter perpendicular to touch.
for the cool of a pacific wave,
while awaiting a calm that I have never known.

To find it,
this place in me,
to find it,
is to find My Me.

I need to be there,
where, lost leaves collect to converse,
where revelations reverberate
and inhibitions emancipate.

So at two seconds from insanity,
when I am suspended in a silhouette of shadow,
I will visualize invisible shackles,
and hear freedom ring as the caged bird sings.

For at the very moment,
that I find this place,
my place,
my me –
which shapes like Victorian architecture in autumn,
with a bashful grasshopper in my heart,
I will know peace.

I will be

© LaRonda Moore

16 Replies to “My Me”

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