Self-Portrait, Age 21







 

Here is what I know:


 

The 1 train is never not a Pilgrimage

The waning moon is never not a Home

The ferryman

and his ferry boat

are never not On Schedule

The mountains are never not West

The mountains are always West
































 

Self

 

of the same material and color as the rest

Germanic “selbe” for expressing “I”




 

Portrait

 

study

Old French “portraire” to portray





























 

True/False:

___ “Self” is a ritual

___ “Self” is a double negative

___ “Self” is fixed

___ “Self” is a channel

___ “Self” is a hole

___ “Self” is a whole

___ God has a “self”

___ ***God Herself is THE “self”

___ A prayer is a “self”

___ A mirror has a “self”

___ A homeland is a “self”

___ A mountain has a “self”

___ The moon is/has a “self”

___ A “self” is a shadow

___ A shadow has a “self”

___ You have a “self”

___ You are a “self”

___ You’re sure










 

Please,

tell me more about your “self”:












 

Is it holding?

Is it held?



 

Does it have a home?

Does it have a heart?




 

Has it ever died? disappeared?



 

If not,

do you think it ever will?











 

Mine is

 

Hollow

 

a small valley

formed by making a w/hole

Old English “holh”
































 

A creation myth

(a self)

is never not some form of some truth.


 

How to find

how to declare

some form of

some truth of  

some self:


 

Be small

until you cannot not be big

any longer.























 

No woman will never not mourn the moment that she became a girl.



 

June 2003

 

The woman I was at seven years old:

 

Heart full

Body wild

Legs too certain, too trusting to hesitate

Arms too small

much, much too small

much, much too strong

to carry all of her light

She draped it over her narrow seven year old shoulders

     and patiently followed her seven year old feet

                                          her seven year old will

up to the tippy tippy top of the highest highest mountain

And when she arrived she carefully

             lovingly

laid her light

             gently

             quietly

at the feet of the gods

looked them in the eyes and announced

with the absolute absence of fear and the absolute fullness of self:

 

 

 

Here it is.

 


 

Here it is.

You’re welcome.

You are welcome.

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