i can hold my own in a conversation not in my language
because i’ve learnt it, piecemeal, in response to demand
but wait – it could have been my language all along, right
and the fact that it isn’t
is the fault of experiences that even with good reason,
just don’t seem to quite line up
it’s amazing how wrong you can feel
about your life that is supposedly so right
and how you are a different person in each of your circles
so that no one will know the many ways in which you don’t fit in
it’s both maddening and heartbreaking to know
that you’ll never be good enough
for the people you supposedly resemble the most
the best place to remember and find myself is in the middle of a bustling mall
where the sidebench can be my armchair
and the pleasant scurryings of the shoppers-by
can be my rhythm and also my tide to swim against
~
it requires energy to swim against the current [of mental noise]
just as it takes energy to dive into your craft and find the place where
stroke after stroke, you and the activity flow together as one
and you no longer exist aside from the conscious being watching words appear,
watching lengths unfold
~
i’m swimming again, in the world’s sea, moving and remaining still
every blank page, every still mile of water is full of exactly the lifesource i need
i hope it’s clear that engaging here is as necessary to my survival as breathing
and in fact, i’ve already lost myself, blown off steam, given away my troubles, taken as many deep breaths as a yoga class could provide
i kind of can’t believe how easy it was to arrive here
~
the drive and requirement to be the best that i can be in turn requires that i pull away to rejuvenate, however selfish that may seem
i can rise to the occasion as required
and i believe i have it all in me
but i do not want to feel inadequate
for not rising to an occasion
that does not [currently] exist for me.
whether we like it or not
it seems we have little choice but to return
in adulthood
to the habits taught to us in our youth
if only because they bring womb-like comfort
in an otherwise boundless world
nor of the west 