Poetry and Dualism

I wrote a poem when I was going through some of the worst parts of leaving the mormon Church a decade ago. I felt like I was split in two from the trauma, and I’ve been feeling that way again, so I pulled it out.

 

I lost me again

This has happened before

I wasn’t paying attention as I left

And I felt a soft, urgent caress against my thighs

All I saw was the curve of my escaping form

I followed closely, dogging my heals

Attracting and enticing me back

With promises of security, safety, comfort

This time, I wasn’t fast enough

 

I never knew

the powerful primal pull of freedom could

tempt me

effectively

I spent so much time trying to

train me

teach me

show me

Appropriate outlets for the

wild that ran through–

I’d even

leash me

and

take me

out–

The reaction and attention of

others would always

please me

Some people

approach me

eagerly

leaning down to lose

their hands in the long, rough fur–

Some irrationally

hate me

fear me

avoid me

Obviously anxious about the

untamable, unadulterated, unconstrained

Maybe they’ve had bad experiences with the leash

like me

Most people

ignore me

These days it’s not so unusual

Almost everyone has something

like me

I wander, looking for me

I question others, but no one has seen me

I don’t want to go home without me

 

I don’t think I’m coming back

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