Existing
I exist
In the creases of his grey pants
In the tiny half-moon clippings at rest in the blue garbage can
I exist
In the needle eyes staring everywhere
In the hung frames of faces from the familial sphere
I exist
In the smooth spots worn into a keyboard
In the rough skin of my barefoot self
I exist
In the forgotten light, the forgotten dishes
In the bubbling of yeast and the melting of chocolate
I exist
In the pages I have turned
In the words I have read and written
I exist
In flesh and blood memories
In the holy water of an eternal mind
I exist
In the creases of his grey pants
In the tiny half-moon clippings at rest in the blue garbage can
I exist
In the needle eyes staring everywhere
In the hung frames of faces from the familial sphere
I exist
In the smooth spots worn into a keyboard
In the rough skin of my barefoot self
I exist
In the forgotten light, the forgotten dishes
In the bubbling of yeast and the melting of chocolate
I exist
In the pages I have turned
In the words I have read and written
I exist
In flesh and blood memories
In the holy water of an eternal mind
many questions lay beneath the lines... great piece...
ReplyDeleteLove the flow of this piece, beautiful read.
ReplyDeleteI simply adore this poem.
ReplyDeleteThis stanza is particularly resonant for me:
I exist
In the smooth spots worn into a keyboard
In the rough skin of my barefoot self
awwww. yes, yes, you exist. thank goodness for that.
ReplyDeleteso beautiful... existence is goes far beyond even our physicality.
ReplyDeletecogito, ergo sum...
ReplyDeleteI love the flow! the "I exist" was very powerful and sort of like a heart beat! Love it. Existing in all. Familiar and not, Ordinary or not.
ReplyDeleteps. Shared it.
ReplyDeleteThere is a lot to think about here... all the ways we exist and how our imprint is on so much. Very nice.
ReplyDelete"in the smooth spots worn into a keyboard," yes, I get this. Every single stanza had me holding my breath. The "I exist" refrain is potent and memorable. This is one of the best of yours I've read, Cami. Peace, Amy
ReplyDeletesmooth spots worn into a keyboard... I think I can relate to that! Nice.
ReplyDeleteThis is the second poem of the day that made me think of non duality. Looking out the window I see me in tempered texture and hues unfathomable, little do I realize that I too am the window once the emptiness sets in and there are no slave owners. They disappeared the day fear went on vacation. Great thought provoking writing.
ReplyDelete