Poem: Confusion – 04/11/20

There’s no confusion in the motions,
they’re deft and sure and clean,
but there’s confusion in the aftermath,
I don’t want to be seen as someone
I shouldn’t be.

There’s power in the words,
the murmured tones from up above,
there’s something lingering there, you know,
and it’ll come forth one day,
when push comes to shove.

The answers will press themselves
into my face,
no need to fight away from the crowd,
I won’t need to ignore their presence,
I can sense them already now.

I cannot help but wonder:
am I doing the wrong thing?
Times that felt right in the moment
project a sense of followed guilty feeling.

It is true that I should withhold
when something inside propels me to
sing and dance?

I wonder to myself,
I wonder:
should this time be the last?

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Emily Morter on Unsplash


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