Glass Cage

For a the soul that's always reaching.

This piece was written listening to song below.

It captures how the words feel in the body.

My mind reaches outward,

trying to touch its own edges,

as futile as dusk chasing the dawn.

. .

I sift through memory for meaning,

trying to recall why this story

feels already written.

. .

If there is free will,

then ask two magnets

not to join upon proximity.

Tell the tide not to obey

the pull of gravity.

. .

Can you resist the formulas

that preordain one being

from drifting into another’s orbit?

. .

Heat keeps drawing

my imperfections to the surface,

and time keeps circling back

until I face them.

. .

The refining feels endless,

a fire that forgets

I am not yet silver.

. .

Wounds wait in silent patience

for me to turn toward them,

with gentle understanding.

. .

Pain only ever cries

because it needs to be seen.

. .

My soul is tired of reaching

for your horizon,

only to find it always retreating.

. .

Yet somehow I know the steps

to this ancient dance,

though I can’t recall

the life that taught me.

. .

I was given a mind that seeks light,

that aches for understanding,

only to find both just beyond reach,

illuminated only

by the hint of their afterglow.

. .

So I remain within this glass cage,

watching the light refract

against its walls,

aware of everything,

resolved of nothing.

---

My name is Mara, and my publication Organised Overthinking is part poetry, part observation, part “I should probably have kept that thought to myself.” Making eye contact with the human condition and then writing about it. If that sounds like something you would enjoy, I would love it if you would consider subscribing.

If you would like to fund my coffee addiction and my poetry :)