On The Cusp

On The Cusp

Who am I? Where do I belong?
All I am is on the cusp.
Two parent cells become the zygote become the embryo
Become the fetus become the infant expelled
From the womb. The toddler, child, teen,
Young, middle-aged, elder.

All I am is on the cusp.
In moments I can be tender and cry
In moments I can be stoic and hard.
I knit lovely lace and fill wheelbarrows with heavy labor,
Feminine, masculine, single, partnered, centered, scattered.
Very alone, always interconnected.
Parent, child. Egg, chick. One is always becoming another. Or both.

All I am is on the cusp.
I envy people who say proudly and loudly, “I am this.”
Life might be clarified, shining, intact. Pull your title
From a library shelf and proclaim “I found my story”
And check yourself out without ever being overdue.

Habits I like are how I live. But that is not who I am.
I live in a location on Earth among a certain community.
That is not who I am.
I do a certain job to pay bills.
That is not who I am.
I do not mind not knowing,
belonging only in others’ minds.
All I am is on the cusp.

About Erin W

A sensitive plant, bamboo strong.
This entry was posted in Poems, WP Daily Prompt and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to On The Cusp

  1. Pingback: Unicycle | Another Remarkable Day

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