Area Map: You Are Not Here
*Squints* Are you sure?
Where am I?
Can’t be sure.
I was infinitesimal pause before inhalation once
on a search-and-find-answers mission
pre-empted by autonomic nervous system laws.
A solitary journey moments-seeker
desert-walking thirst yet resistant teacher.
A two-legged puzzle by those who caught glimpse
with storm cloud faces gathering despair
for my inexplicable calm and genuine smile without air.
Sho’ nuff did sink beneath some place
beyond city limits on the backside of greenest space.
Mystical ground where jasmines grew
sentient beings and seeds I once knew.
Silent offerings
cover flesh
as soul feeds
roots to mind enmesh.
I took submersion
neath the morning burrowed under sleep
since the places where he touched me
are now liquid fissures that make me weep.
Where am I?
Can’t be sure.
I became osmosis gradient reaching
discarded fears and attraction screeching
wanton molecules of sensuous teaching.
Signed a lease on memories
where pleasure itself desired holding.
I am ‘Nowhere-Me.’
Every exposure-soaked limb
unable to move
visible tremors with tears to follow
the expected promises of comfort hollow.
I cared not for amenities or customary graces
Kept lowered eyes amidst throngs of unfamiliar faces.
Knew full well no savior coming.
Only one heart heaving for a shaman’s humming.
Difficult to quantify a timeline and cost
when near impossible to explain
how to you self was lost.
Not in a bad way — like abducted hurt or missing.
Almost intentional disappearance
to see forests for the trees and leaves I need kissing.
In receipt of directions
via longed-for connections
that finally exhaled
found a sane place
but left no trace
and yup
stayed awhile.
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(Originally published on Medium)
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New Normal
There is always a moment — small, quiet, almost forgettable — when the spark stops being a warning and becomes a state. It never looks like a turning point from the outside. It’s not a dramatic shift. It’s not a cinematic beat. It’s a subtle internal click, a recalibration so slight that only someone who has lived this cycle as many times as I have would recognize it.
By Elisa Wontorcika day ago in Poets
Comments (3)
That was amazing. Well done, indeed.
Definitely awesome as always!!! Loving this!!!💖💖💕
The disjointed lines & phrases, twisting our minds & thrusting us out into that nowhere land where our very notion self becomes fluid, transient, lost. Extremely effective. You leave us fixed in place, no longer quite sure who, what or where we are or what just happened.