I say this to the mirror

Hello, Do I know you?

I say this to the mirror

. . . often in passing.

So hello

Say, can you help me?

I seem to have misplaced my intentions

but in my search,

I am finding deep roots

that are hard to bring into the light.

Why recently,

as recently as almost every day,

I am anonymously handed a script

and an emotional character to portray

and I catch myself saying lines

I either don’t fully understand

or couldn’t possibly believe in.

I am haunted by the surrounding layers

of innuendo and subterfuge.

I feel as if I am speaking on behalf

of voiceless, others of myself,

and I have recently developed

emotional soft spots

that I thought were undisclosed

but instead they are either championed

or defended . . . by me!

I am trampled underfoot often

in a lot of my dreams

and I recently become aware

that when I am almost newly anywhere,

I am dearly clutching onto something

of very little personal significance.

I am like the geologic column

in my memory

but I have layers

of sandstone failing me

for there is an underground river

of forgetfulness passing through

and I only want to pretend it to be real.

My heart is not in it.

What can I do

to protect my innocence,

my somewhat tattered ideals?

I only wanted to initiate

as a response to practically anyone.

I did not want to cause anything

but I am a flaming moth

and I have lost my cliché.

And it seems that all clichés

are a lip service

I can ill afford . . .

“Desperate measures”

would be the name of the movie

that I think I got these lines from.

For me, this is a kind of a prayer

that I firmly address

as my prayers are deeds to me.

I have a conviction

that I cannot name

but I can pronounce it secretly

by simple gestures to myself.

I don’t believe it

but when I do,

a breeze will come

and my sail will somehow be ready.

I doubt that that is possible

just as all the nights are cold in my body

even in the light.

I doubt that tomorrow

will at all remember

what was so precious about today . . .

Can you help me?

Can you help?

So I say plaintively to myself,

I am only seeking to love and be free,

to connect with the truth.

I wander through this as darkness,

praying as if to see some light,

to find space with love,

as real and unselfish and complete.

I am driving on a surface,

gasping for depth of being

while experiencing a loss of control.

Yes, I am a desperation

of love living in a bomb shelter

made out of control.

Closeness is loud, very loud

but therefore cannot be allowed

and true presence is denied.

There is a general belief in me

that we are all essentially connected

and big love is what we seek

yet strangely, we run from this

and distrust all our own motives.

I am readily a compulsive level

of this personal distrust

and I live beyond the keys

which might open many doors

and show the light of a love to me

that is so large

it permeates all hatred,

all distrust and lacking.

But this is all I seek.

My motives are always distrusted,

by my self,

and further questioned

and self-ridiculed.

I find myself,

but in a loss of place.

And once again there,

I also say this to the mirror.

Somewhere soon

the path will find me again

or I will once again realize

this was the path all along.

But, in the meantime,

can you help?

Can you?