Sea Without a Shore
A reflection on the self that refuses to stay defined
I grew up believing, that…
Self was a solid shape,
A boundary with edges,
A name with tied meaning,
A voice that began and ended in my own throat…
Then time revealed the buried truth,
Identity is a drifting weather,
A cloud taking forms it never intended to keep,
A story revised by every eye just by looking at the cover print…
I saw how my face changed in each mind it entered…
How I became a refuge to some,
A threat to others,
A footnote in someone’s life,
A prophecy in another..
All this…even without moving an inch
My certainties cracked…
Each version of me pulled at the seams,
Until I no longer knew,
If the person waking in my body,
Was indeed the same one who slept last night…
I have learnt that memory edits itself,
Desire reshapes the spine,
Fear redraws the mind,
And love writes its name…
On every echo I have mistaken for identity….
The self I cling to
Is nothing but borrowed light
Passing through the rooms where I once stood
Leaving outlines mistaken for ownership
What I call ‘I’…
Is a procession of impulses…
A parliament of contradictions…
A shifting tide of borrowed histories,
Searching for a shoreline to claim….
And yet…
There is a strange peace in this unraveling,
When the myth of a permanent self dissolves,
The world stops being a mirror.
And it becomes a sea
Where I float
Unafraid of losing shape…
Coz perhaps the most honest version of me…
Is the one that has refused to be captured,
The one that slips through the fingers of definition,
The one that knows,
Identity was never a monument,
Only a moment….
And the moment is enough.
This was so beautifully written 🤌🏻✨
Amazing!!