The Curious Nature Of Childhood
a soul inside a body that falls from a bicycle
blood flows from skinned knees,
gravel under skin
The me that watched the me that wondered:
"Will I be in trouble?"
"Does Karma know I left my friend's house late?"
what is disobedience
if not genuine forgetfulness
an error of too much fun
If I do this just right, limp a wee bit, show enough bravery, will I get love instead? A kiss better?
“Am I separate from the parent that scolds?”
Does the soul have anything to do with any of this? Is the soul the watcher of all that is? Do we ever get to know?
A mind, a soul, stretched and severed.
a blade of grass blown between licked thumbs becomes sound
blood trickles down my leg,
I am alive