After I shake out my pockets, 

I come up with nothing

But grains of sand

And some tobacco dust

From a cigarette smoked 

A multitude ago.

All that which spun

In the washing machine

And landed here

turned out to be 

other morose beings

like myself.

We were two sisters 

But Mother always said

She had one daughter 

And one impossibility

Traipsing around,

each morning 

bringing 

another contradiction.

I must admit I never tried to be

the child my mother 

wished to have,

or wanted. 

I went against 

Everyone’s wishes,

I never wanted, 

To conform, 

To the ‘norms’ laid

By my mother, my teachers,

And when all else failed, 

Even my own.  

Looking up through trees, 

some rags of clouds

Caught mid-air

and fading fast, I sense

Nothing, now nothing

Not  even the perfect sky

or the birds 

can save me,

Shuffling down

The path I tread on,

whistling what was once

A happy tune.

I know if I committed

A sin as a child

It was that I 

Was irreverent. 
                                        

Sometimes light

Slants through 

the window,

Complacent and quiet.

Sometimes light 

Is dark, brooding and still.

Unflappable, I was and am.

I might have broken 

Some hearts 

But never imagined 

mine would be too.