I have been away from myself so long,
I return a stranger to my body.
A tourist, really, watching the world
from foreign eyes.
It is not like I left for bottles or needles,
but hid in a freudian haze
and a geologic age
studying blood red cave paintings.
I have learned the present
is a difficult place to still.
Not the politics or the wars,
but the cud-like air oppressing my lungs.
Old words, I chew again and again.
Each bite breaks shards into smaller shards
that burrow deeper through the flesh,
killing me by a billion tiny cuts.
It is dynamic electricity
crossing neurons in the brain,
bit flipping recognition
of my validity, my existence.
I say Sing The Body Electric like Walt.
Join the armies of bodies
who reveal themselves to be full souls.
Forgive those who defiled and defaced
the living that refused to die
though displacement is a death of time spent
in full possession of arms, wrists, hands,
of legs, knees, feet, of whole hearted actions and reactions.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney