January 21, 2009
By Urszula Dabrowska, Elmhurst, NY

Not too long ago, when I awoke,

I was I.

My thoughts,
I, me, myself.
What, I. Where, I.
My world was precise,

For I was at the center.

Then gravity shifted,
And threw me off my throne.
Downwards I fell,
Spiraling towards who knew where.

Stripped along the way.

Wherever it is I landed,
In that overwhelmingly vivid bottom,
I was bare,

And no longer was I, I.

Now when your eyes water, tears streak down my cheek.
When you are cold, I shiver.
When you are alone, It is me lonely.
You cut. I bleed.
I form words, but it is you to speak.

Where have I gone?
Should I choose to look for I.
Is it back upwards, there.
There, where my throne is.
Higher, there, in the air.
Crown and all.

I look up.
And I see all clouds.
Where I is I and existential.
Up there,
All vain,
And superficial.

I cling.

No, I will not go there.
There, where I is I,
I is too solitary.

I want to remain here,


Where there is WE and US.
Where I can say YOU.


I could not look elsewhere.
Nowhere for this.

Not you.

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