Unbecoming
Everyday
I shed a layer of my own understanding
about who I am
Like unfolding an intricate origami
till it is a blank sheet
with creases, fingerprints
and a faint memory of sublimity
I’m navigating through the process
of unlearning most things
that come naturally to me
numb smiles, habitual rhetoric,
perfected pretense under clogged breaths
Everyday
I offer a little absolution to all the
furious gymnasts in my stomach
somersaulting ferociously
for the fear of falling
The more I read about artists, poets and thinkers
who nourished in the poison of history
till their veins turned into
applauded art pieces,
the more this body empties itself—
once a universe, then a temple,
home, rehab, room, corner to
now a barren land
where nothingness blooms steady, still.
This disintegration is a calling
of sorts. Charmingly uncontrollable.
I fold and unfold
meaning to meaningless
fear to freedom
structure to storm
sacrament to stillness
pain to peace
Everyday,
I come undone
Layer after layer
Oblivious to the forbidden
the fruit,
the root,
the garden.
I become my unbecoming.
