There was something puzzled in me
When you spoke, when you moved
I would wait, further back,
And then I understood.
Your automatic cues, picked out of the self-growth hat,
The concrete structure you have built and reinforced one layer after the other,
One reading, one meeting after the other
Today, as vibrations crackle the surface seals,
As your life’s foundations keep shaking with an amplitude
Unknown to your architecture, so far,
I see your fragility
I understand that all the branches you’ve collected
All the pages you’ve turned,
The workshops, the trainings,
Scaffolding you’ve erected,
Aimed at securing your inner walls.
Has anyone ever told you
That your are never more likeable and radiating,
Than when these structures wobble and split,
Leaving your being pulsating with brightness ?
You’re still struggling to accept it,
For so many years you have concealed it,
Unable to fully come into being,
The way you are today, among us.
Franck Joseph
©FJ Dec. 2020 – All rights reserved.
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Notes & Silence 
Have you ever tried Wilfred Owen’s poetry? Full of sound and fury and movements and jerky ways of dying? Like yours in a way. Read Dulce est decorum…overwhelming writing really…
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Thanks a lot for reading this…
I’ll do some research on your recommendations.. I haven’t heard about Owen. My references in UK/US poetry, if any, are getting rusty.
Have a nice day
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‘jerky ways of dying’… don’t get foolby the blog’s name …not my type to die in silence .
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*fooled
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The fragility of who we imagine we are, intermingling with the great presence. Beautiful piece
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Thanks for your reading, Ananda.
Have a nice day,
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