my subsets explode me away

fragmented

I am not here,

I feel fragmented,

as if I’ve divided myself into countless pieces,

each of whom is charged with a task,

all my subsets explode me away from my center

and I hope I will flare with each like fireworks in the sky,

yet I fear the scatter can be beyond my center’s power

to pull my selves back together,

like Yeats’ falcons who cannot hear the call to return,

I’m here at the cabin, by the creek,

a home for my deepest self,

yet streams and woods do not yet center me

as I keep channel-surfing through my psyche,

revisiting and second-guessing all the fragments,

I am so much for so many,

and while I work to reknit what unravels,

I can forget how to reknit my own unraveling.

by Henry H. Walker

November 26, ’14