You're Not Becoming the Person You're Meant to Be
By JUSTIN KARCHER
Where I grew up
there were no ambitious politicians
possessing the bodies
of the people around me
when they spoke
there were no proclamations
no grand visions of the future
it wasn’t so much a wind
but rather the stillness
that is left behind
after wind chimes
stop singing
it’s heavy
it weighs you down
but somehow you still feel
as nimble as the ghost
of a ballerina
who died tragically
still full of purpose
but also purposeless
still capable of graceful rhythm
but also stuck
it’s a weird place
but also not unique
a lot like the place
where you probably grew up
growing up
I was surrounded
by bodies of water
but don’t remember
seeing any ships on ‘em
or swimmers in ‘em
I’ve always found that funny
how you’re geographically blessed
with the canvas of freedom
but lack the paintbrushes
to paint your plan for it
I suppose that’s an adequate description
of mental illness
a state of perpetual grief
but you’ve forgotten who or what
you’re grieving for
where I grew up
you learn from an early age
how to be three things:
pallbearer
punching bag
drinker
but never a politician