Nutshell

You clear your throat
On the outer side of the universe,
And I jump up in my bed,
Suddenly afraid of the dark.

When we walked together,
In my perceived “hand-in-hand,”
Me as a child,
You as a god…

…What would a god have to do with a child?

I walk calmly through the sunshine of my day.
You glance my way
From the outer side of the universe,
And now it’s only shadows around me.

All I wanted as a child
Was to feel your eyes on me
Out of love,
Free from duty.
Do we live in duty still?

I see a mirror and realize,
Finally,
I am at peace with living.
Then you shrug your shoulders
From the outer side of the universe
And I realize,
I am not at peace with anything.

When I came to you as a child,
Out of unreserved trust,
To a perceived “unreserved acceptance,”
Me as a child,
You as a god…

…What would a god have to do with a child?

My love was not light,
And my confidence was sure.
But you walked away
From the outer side of the universe,
And then asked why I had forgotten you.

I had not forgotten.
I have not forgotten still.
But — no one can tell me —
What does a god have to do with a child?

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