Pariah

A poem

I don't know who I am
Or what I want. 
Is this a new development? 
Every decision a pariah. 

Nostalgia behind, fear before, 
Joy somewhere in the middle, 
Laughing with another voice 
Foreign to the values of the self. 

Melancholia, you did me in. 
Oh holy fathers, let me be free, 
From the bad image of perfection. 
From the impossible past. 

You had a dream once
That silver waves pushed you to glory.
But it was a scarred form of Heaven.
Not painless in its culmination. 

I had a dream, too,
In which God spoke of a new world
That's already here, cross-shaped, shining. 
Can you imagine? 

Elusive, wandering soul! Imagine
And be pushed.  

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash