What we Call Humanity – a prose poem

I feel myself

Cut loose,

From the throng,

A wanderer solitary.

I find myself

Cast adrift,

Bobbing on strange seas,

Black sky burning.

Cut loose,

Cast adrift,

Tethered by only the most

Essential qualifications

Of humanity, or what is

Called as such by many.

I am floating far beyond

The pale and timid morality

That binds, one person to another;

A road long travelled

Is no easier to swim than walk.

In a dream I saw a man

Cast from the shore, bound

In chains of iron, wrapped like

Houdini or another magician,

Struggling to get free

As bubbles rose with screams

Of horror trapped within,

Released onto the surface

Of the lake calm despite what sinks

Deep below its still surface.

Thrashing, clanking, wrenching at iron,

I watched him struggle in his chains,

Wondering why I did not help

Then realising twas my reflection

As I looked up to the lake surface

From below, already too deep.


The above is a description that I’ve been thinking of for quite some time, in particular the image of watching myself drowning while wrapped in chains. Given my recent health problems I feel it is quite apt. All that I write is cathartic, so do not fear. I’m not about to jump into a lake wrapped in iron chains. 🙂 Thanks for reading!



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