workshop on contained and free

Photo by Mario Azzi on Unsplash

1

And that was the moment I opened my eyes

I was the sticky yellow substance inside an egg.

something meant for more than what I was

Something that was supposed to grow — contained and nurtured

But freed too soon — I was a runny

boundless thing. Lacking form.

A mistake.

I remember before — when I was thought.

I was contained in the imagination of my maker

limitless in potential, eternal in pleasure.

I was the embodiment of pure blue sky

Stretching for miles and miles

One hand on the mountain top, the other cradling the ocean floor

And then there was a sound

the thunder of voice — and I shook

from my limitless expanse and

confined myself to this word:

Birth

I was there then.

In a fragile cage of what might be

Confined in hopes that held me like thin paper

And I missed my sky

I missed when I was an imagined thing. And when I was free of all that

weighted expectation.

Expectation is a fragile thing, I’ve learned

Not wrapped in the melody of hope — like I had grown accustomed

but nurtured by fear.

I grew weary of your eyes upon me.

Of your endless needling

I could sense your unease and it grew

in me a disease of my own making

I could sense my fragility

I knew too keenly my own limits.

And before I could even become a disappointment

I broke.

2

And yet beyond the horizon

I was plucked from the great freedom to

become

Becoming is an adventure — and maybe the weight of expectation

could have grown my own.

Maybe instead of shrinking under your fearful eye

I could have sung

and soothed the crumpled corners of your longing

That is it really

You longed for me is all.

You wanted me to exist in a form

more solid than dreaming

That is beautiful

It’s a sunset of desire

And I was to be its pink and golden hues

Maybe, had I not feared, my wings could have

brushed the fragile cage of your hope and not

brought about your ruin

or mine

Then maybe we could have painted the sky in more ways than sunsets

Perhaps I could have been the rain

and the sunlight too

Perhaps I could have held my breath in the clouds

and laughed in thunderstorms

Maybe I could have been birth

Maybe I would have become

life